Sherlock Holmes & The Mysterious Ex
by Gatergirl79
Summary: Sherlock and John are forced to spend Christmas with Sherlock's family. An unsettling idea especially when John will have to play 'Boyfriend' thanks to Mycroft. But why exactly does Sherlock want to avoid a family party? SLASH. JOHNLOCK
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Ok, I know I should be finishing Free Will House and Every Hunter Needs An Angel but I wanted to do a seasonal story and Sherlock is the only one that's messing around in my head. I just hope I can actually finished before the new year. (fingers crossed) **

**Anyway, I hope this doesn't suck too much, its my first Sherlock story. I love Sherlock and can't wait for the new season to begin. :D **

**Warning: Slight spoiler for The Great Game. Not BetaRead, will have spelling and Grammar mistakes so you have been pre-warned.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER ONE<strong>

"Sherlock? - What's this?"

Holmes didn't look up from his computer, there was no real need, he knew just what his flat-mate was referring to, having heard him lift the thick card off the mantelpiece. He should have thrown it always the moment he saw it, or better yet burned it. But he couldn't be bothered to waste his time with trivial things like burning scraps of paper. – Unless it had some scientific use, of course. Which that certainly did not. He already knew how long it would take to burn to ash and what would be left behind. So he'd just left it where Mrs. Hudson had placed it. "What does it look like John." he sigh at such a ridiculously, pointless question.

John Watson was already reading the invitation with a mix of surprise and curiosity. The gold and white embossed invitation scream posh and well-to-do. Below the beautiful scribed _'would like to invite you to the annual Christmas gathering.'_ was written Sherlock and Partner. John ground his teeth, praying that didn't mean him. He was become more and more irritated by people's assumptions that he and Sherlock were _'together'_. It had all started with Mrs. Hudson, who still after six month was convinced they were a couple.

At the top of the invite John noted the names of the sender. Percival and Mary Holmes. John frowned; he knew Sherlock only had one sibling, Mycroft, and that his mother had died years ago. So who was Mary?

"So what do you deduce?" Sherlock murmured with a smirk. If Watson couldn't figure this one out there was no hope for him what-so-ever.

"Step mother."

"Well done. There is hope for you yet Doctor." Suddenly announced the rather smug, conceding voice of Mycroft.

"It was hardly the ripper case, Mycroft. – Mrs. Hudson could have figured that out." Holmes sighed, his gaze still not leaving the computer screen, his slim agile fingers taping away at the keys.

John wasn't sure if he should be thanking Holmes or slapping him. So chose to throw himself down in his armchair and sit back to watch the always amusing scene between the brothers… no, arch enemies.

Nothing was said. Mycroft just hovered around the apartment taking in his surroundings. It always made John think he was looking for something, though he couldn't think what. Sherlock did what he always did when his brother was present and frankly even when he wasn't, he sat in silence updating his website or researching something and ignored them.

Feeling the strain and boredom of the silence, John decided to speak. Even though he was more than sure he'd regret it. "Your step-mother, huh?" John looked between the two men. "You have a step mother?"

"Obviously." The men said in unison, causing John to have to fight back a smirk of his own. They were so alike sometimes that he wondered why he hadn't realised straight away that they were related.

"Poor woman." He laughed absently.

Holmes turned sharp eyes on his flat-mate. "I do not see why you would feel sympathy for a woman you have never met, John."

"Because I've known you six months Sherlock and you drive me crazy, Lestrade's known you five years and you drive him crazy, Mycroft's know you your whole life and you…" he looked to Mycroft who gave a smiling nod of consent. "…and you drive him crazy…basically Sherlock, I have great sympathy and respect for any woman who willing entered your family after meeting you." He laughed again, ignoring the narrowed glare he received from the slightly younger man.

"Sherlock was off at school when she met our father, so she wasn't fully aware of his… eccentricities." Mycroft added.

"My eccentricities?" Sherlock gasped.

Mycroft took a deep breath and looked at Watson. "He didn't meet her until the wedding."

"I'm surprised she didn't call it off immediately." John laughed.

It was so good to get one over on the great Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective. - And going by the increasing redness on the man's neck, he was getting really agitated by this conversation. _Good_. Watson thought.

"No… strangely she finds Sherlock adorable."

Sherlock returned to his website while John stared open mouthed at him.

"Adorable? – You sure she met him? – It wasn't another relative?" John asked.

"Mary is a lovely woman… if a little… overbearing." Sherlock grumbled.

Mycroft laughed. "You are just upset Sherlock because at every available opportunity she tries to matchmake, usually with disastrous results."

John saw Sherlock's jaw clench with a force his medical opinion would not advice. "She tries to set him up?"

Mycroft nodded and Sherlock growled deep in his throat, hitting the keys harder and harder.

"You date?" John gasped. "I thought you were _'married to your work'_?"

"I am. – She tries. – That does not mean I go along with it."

John glanced at Mycroft and saw something soft pass over his features as he stared at his younger brother. To John it looked strangely like sympathy. – Of course that wasn't actually that strange. Mycroft Holmes was always looking out for his brother, whether said brother wanted it or not. Hell, he'd tried to bribe John to be a spy, just so he'd know how Sherlock was doing, though John doubted Mycroft actually needed a spy. – He had enough of those on his payroll.

Mycroft cleared his throat, breaking the tension in the room. "Well, you will not have to deal with that this year…"

"I know, because I'm not going. - I have a case to be working on."

"No Sherlock, you do not."

The brothers locked gazes.

"And how do you know?"

Mycroft shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and fiddled with his umbrella.

"You've got your minions hacking my system again, don't you?" Sherlock shouted furiously.

Mycroft simply shrugged once more and walked to the window.

"Well, case or not, I'm not going." Sherlock announced rather childishly.

"You cannot miss another Christmas Sherlock; you've missed the past three years, they are beginning to worry. - I realised you do not wish to be subjected to anymore of Mary's matchmaking, especially after…Which is why I made sure to tell Mary that you will not be attending alone."

John shifted in his seat. "What!"

Sherlock growled again, his gaze burning into his brothers. "Why did you tell her that?"

Mycroft glanced between the two men. "Obviously to insure that our loving step-mother does not try to set you up with anymore of her…" Mycroft took a deep breath. "…unsuitable relations."

"Wait… you told your step mother that Sherlock has a partner…" John glanced at the invitation and his gut tightened. "Who?" _Don't say it, don't say it, and don't say it._

"Why you of course." Mycroft said plainly.

John dropped his head into his hands and groaned. "Why? – Why?" he looked up and fix Mycroft with a stare. "Why? – We're not in a relationship Mycroft and you damn well know it, we're just flat-mate."

The older Holmes brother laughed but didn't reply. He simply turned towards the door and started to leave pausing only long enough to inform them that a car would be sent for them in three days' time.

John groaned again and fell back into the chair. He'd had plans for Christmas. – Well, he said plans when what he really meant was sitting around watching Telly, avoiding his sister and maybe popping down the pub. He did not want to play _'boyfriend'_ for his flat-mates family.

"There is no need to look so distraught John. I have no intention of attending, no matter what Mycroft say."

John looked up at the strange edge to Sherlock's voice. You didn't need to be a consulting detective to know there was more to this case than met the eye. John suddenly realised he knew absolutely nothing about his flat-mate but that he was a genius who was married to his work and that women weren't his area, which obviously meant men were.

When they'd first meet, Sherlock had spouted the whole married to his work jazz and John had just accepted it. He never questioned Sherlock about his love-life. He'd just assumed he'd never had one. Though nothing about Sherlock Holmes cried virgin. Now he found himself wondering if maybe he should have asked a few questions, then maybe he'd understand what it was Sherlock was avoiding and what Mycroft had meant with that overly protective manner when reference to his step-mothers _'unsuitable relations'._

Sherlock got out of his chair and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"A walk." Sherlock grumbled.

"Want company?"

"No."

John stared open mouthed as Sherlock left the flat; he flinched at the sound of the door slamming. Usually when that door slammed it was him desperately trying to escape Sherlock's chaos. It was unnerving having it being Sherlock who needed escape. John lifted the invitation and stared at it. He knew they'd end up attending the party. Mycroft wouldn't allow Sherlock not to, and Sherlock would obviously drag John along. So resigned to his fate John decided to take the opportunity to find out just who his flat-mate and friend really was and who it was he didn't want to see.

_'The Case of Sherlock Holmes and the Mysterious Ex.'_ his mind titled it.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading :D I would love to hear what you think, as it'll help me with the story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Watson watched Holmes shifting in the back of the smart black car Mycroft had sent for them. What Watson had assumed would be a party turned out to be a full weekend event, taking them through the rest of Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day. This hadn't been the best news John had heard, he didn't really want to be in a strange house surrounded by Sherlock family for an extended amount of time. – It was hard enough living with Sherlock twenty four seven, Lord help him if the man's family were as bad.

The only thing that made this seasonal trip bearable was the prospect of getting an insight into the closed book that was Sherlock Holmes. He tried broaching the subject of the mystery relation that was considered unsuitable but every time he did, Sherlock would ignore, insult or simply leave. It hadn't take John long to figure out that whatever had happened it had left Sherlock hurt and distant. – and if he was honest that was not a comforting thought, especially when he'd spent the past six months convinced that Sherlock cared for nothing and no one but his work. - Which really wasn't being far to Sherlock.

Clearly he'd cared for Mrs. Hudson, and he had cared enough to save his life that night in the pool, after all he could have just shot is new arch nemesis, or could have turned around and walked away, hell he could have shot John himself but he hadn't.

John remembered the terror in Sherlock's face as he'd desperately ripped the bomb from his person, he'd felt his hands shaking. So maybe the great detective wasn't as self-absorbed as he'd pretended.

While John had spent the last three days trying to deduce what he could about Sherlock's love life, which had never been so much on his thoughts, Sherlock had spent the time practically jumping out of his skin. Checking his website every few minutes in hopes that a really good murder case could keep him away from the family do. – Or more precisely the person at said gathering that he really, really didn't want to see again.

_**~ SHERLOCK ~**_

The slick Mercedes pulled through the gates of the Holmes estate. John had always figured Sherlock had money, at least enough to have attended a good public school and to live off when between cases, but he'd never expected this. The large old house looked like something out of a costume drama he's flicked past on TV.

"Your family live here?"

"Clearly." Sherlock groaned, rolling his eyes. Fidgeting with his phone and praying for a final act of deliverance care of some crazed criminal. Sadly Holmes was out of luck as the car pulled to a stop.

The car had barely stopped before a pretty woman in her early sixties came rushing out of the house, all white hair and pastel colours, an older man walking behind her. Mary and Percival Holmes, John instantly deduced, which wasn't that hard when you took into consideration that Percival was almost the image of Mycroft but resembled Sherlock in the way he walked and stood.

Sherlock didn't move to get out of the car; he just sat there staring out at the couple.

"You can't hid in here forever Sherlock."

"Watch me."

"Oh come on don't tell me that the great and wonderful Sherlock Holmes, the scourge of the criminal underworld, the man who stares danger in the eye and laughs is scared of a little Christmas party." John goaded.

Sherlock glared, his jaw tightening. "That is not funny John. – I would remind you that Mycroft has informed my father and step-mother that you are my partner… I would think you would not wish to rush into this."

John's grinning face instantly fell. He had forgotten actually. "Yeah."

They sat there for what seemed like an age until there was a small tap on the window and the small woman waved, smiling sweetly at them. Sherlock cursed under his breath before fixing what could only be considered a grimace on his lean features and opening the car door.

"Sherlock!" the woman squealed and flung her arms around Holmes's neck.

"Hello Mary." Sherlock greeted warmly.

"Sherlock." Nodded Percival Holmes.

"Father."

"Finally, I thought you'd never come." Mary continued as if the two men hadn't spoken.

"If I had any real choice in the matter, I would not have, but you know Mycroft."

The woman slapped her step-son on the arm and giggling. "So? – Is this you're…"

Sherlock didn't allow the woman to finish the sentence; he turned and waved John out of the car.

Watson exited with a warm friendly smile on his face, holding out his hand to Sherlock's step-mother.

"Mary, may I present Doctor John Watson. – John, my step-mother Mary Holmes."

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You too…" she grinned wider than the Cheshire cat. "… I was beginning to think Sherlock would never find himself a nice man."

John swallowed and blushed, much to his irritation. What was he doing? This was possibly the most stupid, ridiculous and embarrassing thing he'd done. – At least since meeting Sherlock Holmes.

"John this is my father, Percival Holmes." John bit the inside of his mouth to stop from laughing. What was it with the Holmes family and names. He'd thought Sherlock and Mycroft were strange enough. "Sir." John shook the man's hand, Sherlock's father returning the handshake in silence while giving him a thorough going over, making John shift uncomfortable on his feet.

John Watson had stared down the barrel of a gun, he's treated men with limbs blown clear of, he'd had a bomb strapped to his chest by a mad criminal mastermind, but there was nothing more intimidating that the stare Percival Holmes was currently giving him.

"Come on in." Mary smiled softy. "We'll get you settled then you can tell me all about how you met."

"Oh, it's not really that interesting." John insisted, but he was ignored as the woman led the way into the house.

_**~ SHERLOCK ~**_

John and Sherlock were led up the large stair case by Mary. John spent the trip checking out the portraits. It seemed that Sherlock was just one in a long line of Holmes's. He wondered if they were as eccentric as his flat-mate. After a short walk they came to a halt outside a room.

"Where we go boys." Mary grinned over her shoulder, while pushing open the door.

John swallowed hard at the sight of the double bed. He really shouldn't have been surprised, yet was.

"What is this?" Sherlock asked with a deep frown usually reserved for his most baffling cases.

"I had it cleared out years ago Sherlock. We were not sure whether you would ever be returned and those experiments were decades old, it was about time they got thrown out. – Besides, I did not think your boyfriend would really want to share a room with over twenty years' worth of science experiments and journals."

"Believe me; I'm used to Sherlock's mess…" John said with a smirk at the irritation on Sherlock's face. He hated people messing with his experiments. "…you should see our kitchen." John instantly regretted speaking when Mary turned bright shining eyes on her.

"You're living together. – Mycroft didn't tell us that. – Well that's wonderful." She said to Sherlock, reaching up to pat his cheek. "Just wonderful."

John dropped his head when Sherlock turned furious eyes on him.

"Well, I'll leave you two to get settled. – The others will be here soon." She informed them before vanishing out of the door.

Neither of the men moved or spoke, they just stood there staring at the bed and wondering what the hell they'd gotten themselves into.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing. I hope this chapter didn't let you down. :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

"Well… this is nice."

Sherlock grunted before throwing himself down on the window seat and staring out across the miles of silent open country. He pulled out his mobile and checked his messages for what must have been the billionth time that day. Crime doesn't take a holiday after all. Well except for this year where it seemed that fate and the criminal underworld were conspiring to keep Sherlock trapped in this nightmare of a family reunion.

"Sherlock, please stop that." John pleaded walking over to one of the small chairs that sat either side of the fire. Swallowing hard he tried not to think about the sleeping arrangements, but couldn't quiet clear is mind of the matter. It wasn't like he hadn't shared a room with other men before, he'd been in the army for god sake, but there was a big difference between sharing a room and sharing a bed. He scanned his surroundings. No couch, just his luck, a giant stately home and their room didn't have a couch. The room was a beautifully painted blue; with a large desk dark wood desk in the corner that John was sure would have been swamped with test-tubes, beakers and a severed head or something equally as disgusting, until Mary Holmes had had it all cleaned away. Two dark leather chairs framed the small fireplace giving the room a distinctly study feel to it. - All in all it resembled the living room of their small apartment, if it had a bed slap bang in the center.

"So this used to be your room?" John asked absently.

"Yes."

"Nice."

"Dull."

John turned around to stare at his flat-mate. "Dull?"

"She removed my experiments." The lanky detective complained. "There's no sign of a case and I'm already bored."

John shook his head. "I guess it's lucky I didn't bring my gun, I don't think your step-mother would appreciate bullet holes in the walls."

"If I want to shoot John, I could just go down to my father's study to retrieve a weapon."

John rolled his eyes and sigh. "Well…. Your step-mother seems nice."

"Humm."

"And your fathers…."

Sherlock turned questioning blue eyes on John. "What?"

"He's…" what could he say. He was pretty sure '_weird'_ wouldn't go over too well. "…was he doing the deduction thing?"

Sherlock narrowed his gaze. "Deduction thing? - No, he wasn't doing the _Deduction thing_."

The two men stared at each other.

"I was just asking, what with you and Mycroft doing it."

Sherlock narrowed his gaze at his flat-mate. "Mycroft cheats."

John's brows rose to his hairline. "What? – How?"

Sherlock silently turned back to the view, ignoring the question. He really had no chose in the matter because he still couldn't figure out how Mycroft did it, but he had to cheat, he just had too, there was no other explanation, because Sherlock Holmes was unique. – Well, at least he liked to think so.

"So what do we do now?" John asked.

Sherlock met the question with a smirk. "Whatever you want John." He announced with an air of flirtation in his voice that made John highly nervous.

The doctor shifted forward in his seat. "I – I'm sure y-your step-mother will be waiting for us."

Sherlock chuckled. "Relax John, we have had this discussion before and we both know where the other stands… right?"

John nodded his head.

"Well then, you need not fear be jumping your bones at the first opportunity. – As for my step-mother…" he groaned. "…I would like to avoid that confrontation as long as possible."

"But if we stay up here too long they might think we're…." John swallowed. "You know."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "That is rather the point John. – Mycroft had informed them that we are together; it would save us a lot of trouble if we allowed them to believe whatever they wished. – People minds always turn to the gut at the first opportunity. – and if we arrive back too soon we will have to convince my family more publicly of our connection."

"Publicly?" John turned scarlet.

"Yes John. And going by the horrified face you're pulling and the alarming shade of red creeping up your neck, I surmise that you would rather not have to undergo any form of PDA."

"PDA?"

"Public Displays of Affection, John."

Watson groaned. "I know what PDA is Sherlock, I'm just surprised you do, surely it's one of those terms that should have been deleted from your hard drive. I can't see how it would come in useful." The shorter man goaded.

_**~SHERLOCK~**_

The men strolled into the large family room almost thirty minutes later to find they were no longer alone. It seemed that while they hid out in Sherlock's room hoping to avoid the inquisition, other members of the family had arrived. John walked in a few steps behind his flat-mate still admiring the grand house. When Sherlock stopped without warning John, not concentrating, plowed right into him.

"Sherlock." He complained, looking up at him. Sherlock's face was pale, paler than usual, as if he's seen a ghost, or John surmised, the mysterious ex. John turned his attention to the new arrivals.

In the large room stood two women and three men, all well-dressed society types that automatically made John uncomfortable. He was just an ordinary middle-class boy after all. He took in the appearance of each of the arrivals and not for the first time wished that he had Sherlock's skill for deduction, it would most certainly make figuring out which of these had Sherlock shifting his lanky, towering form.

John continued to watch Sherlock as they were approached merrily by a young woman with bright red hair and a six month old positioned on her hip.

"Sherlock, about time you showed your face." She grinned affectionately.

"Anna." The detective smiled, seemingly relaxing at the warm welcome.

"I'm so glad you came, it always so awfully dull when you're not around." She winked at him. "I can't wait to find out what the Hamilton's have been up too." She giggled like a naughty school girl and John couldn't hold back the smile.

"Oh, this must be your boyfriend. Mother was telling me…" she turned her bright, curious grin on Watson, holding out her hand. "… I'm Anna, Sherlock's step-sister, if we wait for Sherlock to do the introductions we'll be here forever, he never was one to understand the correct way to behave…" she laughed, shaking John hand. "…Which of course is why he's so much fun to have around."

"I wouldn't exactly class it as fun." John joked easily, ignoring the glare he got from Holmes.

Holmes of course, being Holmes hated to be ignored and decided to shoot a warning shot across his friends bow. – Or tank in John's case. "That is not what you say when I keep you up all night." Sherlock smirked knowingly.

John flushed and looked between Anna and Sherlock. He wanted to correct the obvious assumption that he could see forming in Anna's mind but he knew that he was supposed to be Sherlock's _'partner'_ so simply kicked Sherlock's shin and clenched his jaw.

Anna just giggled and thrust her little boy, going by the colour of his all-in-one sleep suit, towards Sherlock, who instant and forcefully shook his head. Anna merely tilted her head and raised a brow. "He won't bite Sherlock."

"I do not hold babies. Give him to John if you must force the child on someone." Sherlock folded his arms.

Anna, seeing an unwinnable battle held the child to John, who reluctantly too it. Thank heavens for medical school or he'd never know how to deal with children. Holding the little boy safely in his arms, he couldn't stop himself from examining its wellbeing. Much as Sherlock did upon meeting someone, John's automatically examined began to examine the little boy who was merrily staring up at John with confusion. John smiled back, deeming the child health, happy and whole.

"Oh, look at you two…" another female voice announced. "…loves young dream?"

The three, and a half, turned to acknowledge the approach of another woman around the same age as John, and a man a few years either way of Sherlock. From the way Sherlock shifted his stance and lifted his chin, John deduced that this young man was the 'Mysterious Ex'.

Sherlock hadn't told John anything about his family or his past for good reason. It was the past. When John had brought up the subject of relationships he'd stated his go-to line_ 'I'm married to my work' _it had always served him well before. When the invitation had arrived he'd never even considered attending. He'd avoided the Holmes family gatherings for three years with the express aim of avoiding this exact moment. – Or more precisely this exact person.

Though Sherlock was completely over his… relationship, if you could call it that, with Jacob Harvelle, he was well aware that the man had a way of making Sherlock completely forget that he was a genius. He was only grateful that he had John as backup on this one. After all, as long as the family and most importantly Jacob thought he was in a relationship, there would be not attempts at reconciliation.

"Jacob…" Sherlock nodded in greeting. "…Susan."

"Hello Sherly." Jacob smiled softly, looking the detective up and down like he was a Christmas present he couldn't wait to unwrap.

"I have told you before Jacob, I would prefer if you would address me by my properly given name."

"Sorry." He held up his hand in surrender. "I forgot." Though the look in his green eyes told all three men that he hadn't.

"Aren't you becoming all respectable Sherlock?" Susan announced with false mirth.

Sherlock glared at her as if she was his arch nemesis, and she met that glare with one of her own. "How is the married boss, Susan?"

She narrowed her gaze at him.

"He'll never leave his wife you know. – Of course you know, that's why you've put on three pounds in the last two months." Sherlock announced with great flare.

John watched the scene unfold, the child still held in his arms. He looked from Susan to Sherlock, Sherlock to Jacob before finally settling a questioning gaze on Anna. She grinned, rolled her eyes and cleared her throat.

"Susan, Sherlock, play nice. We don't want John wishing he's stayed at home." She psychically stepped between the new arrivals and Sherlock. "John, this is my sister Susan and our cousin Jacob." John held out his hand to each as they were introduced. "…guys, this is Sherlock boyfriend John."

John shifted under the weight of their scrutiny, or maybe it was under the weight of his new title. Swallowing hard he forced his friendly doctor smile in place and greeted them. His gaze shifting to Holmes every now and then as an awkward tension filled the room. Finally it was broken by Jacob who decided at least from John's point of view, to test the waters.

"So you're a doctor I understand?" Jacob asked with a patronizing tone.

"Yes."

"GP?" he said like the word left a repulsive taste on his tongue.

John lifted his chin and straightened his back; he was yet again facing an enemy. "Yes."

"John used to be an army doctor before he was wounded in action." Sherlock informed the group in a strange tone that had John's head snapping around to stare at him.

"Really. – Military." Jacob hummed. "Interesting. – I never took you for the tough guy type Sherlock."

"Clearly." John shot back with a forced in his voice that surprised both himself and Sherlock. "Things change."

Jacob observed the steel in Johns gaze and instantly rose to the challenge. The two men watched each other, sizing the other up. John had already come to a conclusion about Jacob. He'd met men like him in the army. He slightly reminded John of another of Sherlock's acquaintances, Sebastian, from the Blind Banker case. It was that upper-class twit syndrome that came with a public school education and the belief that you could get whatever you wanted. God, John hated that.

Many would probably think Sherlock was like that, but they'd be wrong. Sherlock didn't expected people to look up to him, he expected them to acknowledge his genius but he didn't want their adoration, he didn't give a shit if they liked him or not. He didn't care about having friends or lovers, the work came first, to the point it made him completely oblivious to the thoughts and feeling of others, which drove John crazy at times. But every now and then Sherlock dropped his guard and John saw that he wasn't the complete heartless, soulless automaton that he appeared. Now was one of those moments.

"Am I interrupting something?" Announced a familiar voice that cut through the tension like a scalpel. The group turned to see Mycroft stood in the doorway, his weight resting on his ever present umbrella and an unsettling smile on his face that told all and sundry that he was not to be trifled with. "John. Sherlock, so glad you were able to join us."

"You gave us little choice Mycroft." Sherlock snapped, his normal manner returning quickly.

"Tosh, I sent the car, not an armed escort."

John smirked, never before feeling so glad to see Mycroft Holmes.

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><p><strong>AN: Glad your liking the story. **

**Thanks for reading, reviewing and faving. I'm very honoured. :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER FOUR<strong>

Mycroft's arrival eased the tension considerable; he had a way of taking over, like some kind of sergeant major or head boy, which Watson thought made sense. Ignoring his job, he was the oldest in the room. After delivering his greetings to the family, passing judgment on Mary's rather spectacular tree and having a short conversation with his father, the eldest Holmes sibling dragging his younger brother off for a walk of the ground leaving John to the mercies of their step mother and Anna, who wanted to know everything about their life together.

"How did you meet?" Anna had asked John before he was even comfortably settled on the couch.

"Huh, Um, - A friend introduced us." John answered with all honesty.

"Really, was it a blind date?" Anna added intrigued.

"What, no."

"Huh. – And how long have you been together." Mary asked with a soft adoring smile. She clearly did care very much for Sherlock, as did Anna.

It was strange John thought that a man who had apparently no social graces and seemed to infuriate people within seconds of meeting them actually had a lot of people who cared a great deal for him. "About six months." John finally answered.

"Six months?" Jacob had repeated with surprise, obviously eavesdropping.

John hadn't acknowledged the man's presents but answered all the same. "Yes."

"And you're already living together?" Jacob inquired, still clearly surprised.

Now John acknowledged him, turning in his seat to fix the man with a hard stare. "Yes."

"That's rather quick isn't it?"

John shrugged. "I guess you could say we hit it off straight away." He turned back to the two women who were now staring at him like he was a hero out of some trashy romance.

John continued to answer their questions as honestly as he could, figuring the best way to avoid putting his foot in it was to stick to the facts, leaving out the small detail, like that he was actually just Sherlock flat-mate and that he was straight, who was dancing around a relationship with a lovely fellow doctor. He'd decided that if he was going to be trapped in this insane farce he was at least going to play the part… if only for Sherlock's sake.

When Sherlock and Mycroft finally returned from the walk they seemed a little more at easy and Sherlock especially seemed to have come to terms with the fact he was trapped there for the duration of the Christmas with his family and his ex.

_**~ SHERLOCK ~**_

The evening meal was unbearably awkward. John sat beside Sherlock with Jacob place directly opposite them. The conversation was cheerful and relaxed and John could almost imagine he belonged there, except for the fact he was playing Sherlock boyfriend while sat across from the man's ex, who clearly had designs on rekindling whatever it was they'd shared.

John hadn't failed to notice that Sherlock wasn't eating, which was nothing new to either of them and as usual it was down to John to practically force food into the man. He'd lost count of how many times he'd had to remind Sherlock that he needed food to survive. Sherlock of course always replied with _'eating is boring, it takes up time that can be better spent thinking' _which would then lead to an argument which John inevitably won.

"Sherlock…" John murmured, leaning into the man. "…you need to eat something. I let you off dinner last night and breakfast this morning."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the plate. "I'm not hungry." He complained.

"Tough shit Sherlock, eat." He whispered forcefully.

Sherlock groaned loudly, rolled his eyes and begrudgingly lifted the fork to his mouth.

A giggle caught the pair's attention from across the table where Anna was watching them with a goofy grin on her face. John wanted to groan now, he could only imagine how this little act of concern had looked, the concerned boyfriend rather than the concerned doctor who'd already had to deal with the result of Sherlock Holmes's refusal to eat and had no real desire to relive that. Sherlock was a bastard when he was sick. People said doctors made the worst patients; well they'd never had to deal with Holmes.

"How are you finding Sherlock's obsession with his work?" Jacob suddenly inquired from across the table, loud enough to draw everyone's attention.

John swallowed his mouthful of food and straightened in his chair. "Pardon?"

"Sherlock's work, we all know it's his obsession. It's what stood between him and any long term relationship in the past."

"Actually, John works with me." Sherlock announced.

"Really?" Jacob frowned, his gaze flickering between the men, as if judging the truth in that statement.

"Yes. – John is rather indispensable." Sherlock smiled at his fake boyfriend with far too much easy for John's liking.

John turned scarlet again. At least Sherlock wasn't moving to hold his hand or something equally embarrassing.

"They are rather good at it." Mycroft put in with what sounded like pride, causing both men to turn with shock. "It seems our dear Sherlock had finally found someone who keeps him on the straight and narrow." Mycroft's gaze remained fixed to his plate.

John and Sherlock both shifted, playing the happy couple to please the family was one thing, faking it to get back at an ex they could handle, but being praised by Mycroft that was most definitely unsettling.

"They solved the case of that serial killer six months ago." Mycroft continued nonchalantly, continuing to eat as he praised the pair.

"I – I'm sure Sherlock would have solve the case without me." John countered with a blush. After all he hadn't really done very much, he was just a replacement for Sherlock's skull.

"Maybe but he'd most certainly be dead."

"Dead?" Mary gasped.

"Mycroft…" his father announced sternly. "…how many times must I say it, no business at the dinner table?"

"I was just informing the party that John saved Sherlock's life."

Silence fell on the table as Mycroft stared at the couple with a scheming grin.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

John shifted the two small chairs together with frustration. Looked down at the small space created, knowing that there was no way he was going to fit, he was left him only one option. – The floor. – The idea made him groan. He hadn't slept on a hard floor since leaving the army and he was more than sure it would set off his shoulder. He was not keen of having that pain return; it had taken too long to get rid of it. He did not want to return to the hours of physiotherapy it had taken to get his arm back to full working order.

Sherlock sat leaning back again the headboard, his laptop open. "What are you doing?" His gaze shifting to watch John pulling the two chairs together. "John?"

Watson turned and stared at his flat-mate. "What?"

"What are you doing?"

"Attempting to find a place to sleep."

Sherlock frowned at him. "What is wrong with the bed?"

"I'm not sharing a bed with you Sherlock."

Holmes frowned up at him. "Why?"

John met his gaze with embarrassment. "Because, I'm just not. – It'll be awkward."

"You're being childish." Holmes rolled his eyes. "We're grown men John, not hormonal teenagers."

John suddenly felt as if he was being ridiculous. Was sharing a bed with Holmes such a problem? It wasn't like the man was going to try and seduce him in his sleep. He'd come to the conclusion that whatever had happened to Sherlock in the past and put him off relationships for life, hence the 'married to his work' mantra he'd given to John. _Relationship's maybe, but what about sex? _That small little voice taunted at the back of his mind. John shook his head and glanced around the room. He really didn't want to sleep on a hard wooden floor and the bed looked so comfy, even with Sherlock in it.

John walked towards the bed reluctantly, straightening the sweatpants he was going to sleep in. Lifting the corner, he crawled beneath the covers. There was a small knock the door that rendered the pair silent, they looked at each other when the door opened a crack.

"Are you boys decent?" called the now familiar voice of Anna.

Sherlock rolled his eyes once again and returned his attention to his laptop. "What do you want Anna?"

John shifted uncomfortably in the bed, tugging the duvet up as Anna strolled merrily into the room, a bottle of champagne and three glasses in her hand.

"It's Christmas Eve, Locky, you know what that means." She giggled.

Sherlock grumbled about the infantile shortening of his name, but John could see the small smile pulling at his delicate features. Holmes continued to type away as Anna settled herself on the end of the bed, folding her legs beneath her.

"Me and Locky…" she winked. "…used to do this every year, I'd sneak in here with a 'borrowed' bottle of champagne and we'd get frightful drunk. It was the only way to get through tomorrow." She laughed at John surprised stared.

"Shouldn't you be with your husband and son?" Sherlock asked trying his hardest to sound stern and unimpressed.

"Leo's can take care of Michael; it'll make a bloody change for him…" she complained, waggling the bottle at Sherlock. "Besides, I've missed this."

Anna's smile transformed from teasing to one of genuine affection that made John envious. He hadn't been this close to Harry in years, if ever. They hadn't had any Christmas Eve traditions… unless you counted their blazing arguments.

Sherlock looked up at Anna as she continued to wave the bottle at him. With a groan he closed his laptop, still frustrated there was no case. Getting out of bed to put the computer on the bedside table he wondering why this was the quietest Christmas he'd ever had.

"Here you go Locky." Anna laughed as Sherlock took the bottle from her outstretched hand. He hated it when people shortened his name, whether it was Jacob calling him Sherly or Anna's Locky, it infuriated him. Though as much as he hated it, it always felt rather nice, at least coming from Anna, Jacob's use of a nickname brought up memories he'd tried years to wipe from his hard drive.

Anna was what many people would consider the ideal sibling; she was sweet, endearing and looked up to Sherlock. She was very much like John, she wasn't put off by his brash and seemingly uncaring manner. But unlike John she'd never had cause to rake him over the coals when he was being insensitive or thoughtless. She never covered for his social mistakes, like John did. Anna would just stand there and grin.

He heard Susan complaining to her mother once that he was a bad influence on her little sister, and that if her mother had an ounce of sense she would keep the crazy detective away from her before he got her into real trouble.

As Sherlock popped the cork on the bottle he remembered how this '_tradition'_ had started. Anna had snuck into his room that first Christmas giggle like the naughty school girl she was, with a stolen bottle of his father champagne in one hand and a pile of magazines in the other. She'd jumped on his bed, handed him the bottle and began to flick though the pages, encouraging him to dish the dirt on the celebs. He'd told her it was impossible to deduce anything from magazine photos, before going on to correctly point out that a singer was gay and that three other celebs had eating disorders dispite their apparent good health. Since then, every Christmas Eve Anna snuck into his room with a bottle.

And they thought he was the bad influence?

"So, did you really save Locky's life."

"Stop calling me that, or you can leave right now." Sherlock ordered, pausing in the opening of the bottle.

Anna shrugged her shoulders. "Fine. – So…" she turned back to John, who was sat up in the bed feeling very, very uncomfortable. "…tell, tell. – I want to know everything."

"There isn't much to tell." Sherlock answered, as the cork popped.

Anna held up the glasses. "You always say that Loc…Sherlock. – I'm sure it was all very exciting, right John?"

John shrugged. "No really."

Anna saw the look that passed between the two men and chuckled. "See I know it was. – Tell me!" she demanded, thrusting a full champagne flute into John's hand.

"It really wasn't all that exciting… Sherlock was just being an idiot and almost took a suicide pill."

"I've told you John, I wasn't going to take the pill."

John glared at him with disbelief. "And I'm the Queen of Sheba."

"So what did you do? – Rush to his side and convince him life is worth living." She said in a dreamy tone that had both men staring at her like she'd just grown two heads.

"Anna, this is real life, not one of those trash novel's you have a fondness for reading." Sherlock scolded. "John is not a knight in shining amour…"

"And he's anything but a damsel in distress." John chuckled at the image in his head.

Sherlock narrowed his gaze at John for a few seconds before settling down on the window seat, pulling his knees up to his chest.

"Alright, so what did happen?" Anna sighed, taking a sip of her champagne.

"He shot the killer."

Anna frowned, John shifted in his seat and Sherlock looked out at the night sky.

"I thought you said it was a suicide pill?" she was confused.

"It was.." Sherlock glared at her. "Don't you read the papers?"

Anna shrugged. "Not practically, their kind of depressing… beside this was what, six months ago…" she looked to John for conformation. "…I was in France with Leo, visiting his family before the baby came. – Which of course, he decided to do two days after setting foot there."

Sherlock shook his head and left it to John, as if official blogger, to explain the case of 'A Study in Pink', while he watched the night sky and drank.

He had to admit he was rather grateful at the distraction. As much as John didn't want to share a bed with Sherlock, he wasn't overly keen on sharing a bed with John. In fact, he'd rather not even share a room with the man. His mind had been in chaos since he'd received that invite; he'd been suffering from bad dreams again. Moriarty's voice taunting him in his sleep, his promise to burn the heart out of him, it was terrifying to think that the madman knew enough about Sherlock to actually target those he cared about. He knew who he would go after, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, Anna, his father and Mary. Maybe even Jacob…. And of course John, only next time, John wouldn't be walking away.

He still hadn't figured out how to deal with the man, if they ever found him. Staring out into the dark he knew he was out there somewhere. He probably had his minions watching him and his family. Waiting for the moment to strike again and this time succeed.

_**~ SHERLOCK ~**_

Two hours and a bottle of champagne later, Anna stumbled merrily to the door. "Well, I'll leave you two lover birds to it…" she winked. "…but keep the antics to a social volume will you boys, I do have a baby in the next room." She laughed, the pressed her finger to her lips in a shushing motion. "Nighty night." She whispered as she staggered out of the door closing it not so gently behind her.

"She never could hold her drink." Sherlock informed, climbing back into bed and setting down on his side, facing the window.

"She nice though. I like her." John informed, shifting bellow the duvet. "I can see why you care for her so much."

Sherlock grunted as if wanting to deny the accusation but unable to find the words. John chuckled softly as he switched off the light catching sight of the time. 3:00AM. He groaned and fell back against the pillow, eyes drifting closed, allowing the room to fill with silence.

"Jesus Sherlock!" John yelled, moving under the covers. "Your fucking feet are like ice! – Are you laughing?"

Holmes didn't answer but the movement of the mattress and covers confirmed John suspicions. He'd done that on purpose.

"Arse." He spat, closing his eyes once more.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading, reviewing and faving, I'm honoured you like it enough. :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

John and Sherlock were awoken at 7AM the next morning by the ringing of a cell phone. The bed shifted as Sherlock practically jumped out, like a child on Christmas morning… which it was. He grabbed his phone only to complain when he discovered it wasn't his mobile that had woken them.

"John, your phone is ringing."

Watson stretched and reached for the mobile his sister had given him. Looking at the screen he groaned but answered it all the same. "Morning Harry. – Yeah, Merry Christmas to you too…." He glanced over to Sherlock. "… I already told you Harry I'm on a case with Sherlock. - No, I can't skip it to going out with you. - How many have you had? - I can hear it in your voice. - It's 7AM, I don't want to argue. - I'm hanging up Harry. - Goodbye Harry." He hit the button and ended the called feeling both angry at his sister who had obviously been out all night drink, and at himself for not care anymore. There was only so much a man could take after all. He suddenly felt Sherlock's eyes on him. "She says she's giving up for New Year."

"I find that highly unlikely John."

Watson closed his eyes and took a breath. He didn't need his friend stating the obvious. "Yeah….me to."

John heard a rustling of clothing and opened his eyes to see Sherlock stripping out of his night wear. "Sherlock! – Can't you get changed in the bathroom."

Holmes turned a mystified look on his colleague. "John, you were in the army and you're a doctor, I'm sure you've been a naked man before."

"Yeah, well, not…" unable to argue with that deduction John waved a nonchalant hand and flipped over in the bed, away from the view of Sherlock's naked form.

"Sometimes John you baffle me."

"Why?" John asked from under the covers.

"Because for an educated man with a strong moral compass, you can be rather narrow minded and childish."

John shot up in the bed, ignoring Sherlock's half-dressed state. "Pardon me?"

"Well first there was last night's ridiculous situation with the sleeping arrangements, fussing with the furniture…." He gestured to the chairs that still remained pushed together. "…because he didn't wish to share a bed with me, like you thought I would what, ravish you in your sleep?" he scoffed. "Now this morning you turn over and bury your head beneath the covers like some shy virgin on her wedding night, I expected better of you John Watson, I really did."

"Listen Sherlock, just because I'm a doctor does not mean I wish to watch you strut around the room bollock naked. It's called dignity, obviously a word that was wiped from your hard drive!" John snapped.

"See childish." Sherlock crossed his arms over his bare chest like he'd just single-handedly won the gulf war.

"I'm not being childish Sherlock! – Guys, _normal_ guys, do not go around in their birthday suits in front of other guys." John was growing increasingly agitated with this conversation. The way Sherlock made it sound; John was some ignorant homophobe who was scare of being jumped in his sleep. "…and as for the sleeping arrangements, I'm sorry if I was uncomfortable with the thought of sharing a bed with another man, it's not my area." He said with a slight sneer at Sherlock.

"Obviously John… though let me set your mind at ease, I am not interested in any kind of physical relationship and if I were, it would not be with you!"

John threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. "And what the fucks wrong with me?" _what the hell did you say that for?_

"Other than your clear homophobic issues…"

"How the hell am I homophobic Sherlock, my sisters' gay for fuck sake…. And I live with you don't I…."

_Knock, knock, knock._

"What!" the two men shouted without thinking.

The door opened slightly and a small white head of hair popped around it. For a few moments the men had forgotten where they were and expected it to be Mrs. Hudson. When they saw Mary they both fell silent.

"Sorry to interrupt…" she flushed. "… I just wanted to inform you that we're going down stairs to open presents." Giving them an apologetic smile she closed the door on what she clearly saw as a lovers tiff.

John and Sherlock looked at each other before silently calling a truce and apologizing.

_**~ SHERLOCK ~**_

Sherlock sat on the hard uncomfortable couch with John. Though they had called a truce, they were still in the aftermath of there argument that morning.

Sherlock wasn't aware why they'd even been fighting, he'd merely pointed out the hypocritical nature of his flat-mate. Mainly because he'd truly been surprised by the man's attitude.

John had persuaded him to go through with the charade in the first place. He would much rather have stayed at home, shooting holes in Mrs. Hudson's walls. As it was he was stuck miles from London, surrounded by his family and not to mention his ex, feeling like a caged animal with no sign of a case.

His gaze shifted across the room to Jacob, lounging in one of the chairs with that easy smile that had won Sherlock over the moment they'd met.

Jacob Harvelle was just like a lot of the guys he'd know at university, guys like Sebastian. Arrogant and sure of themselves. Sherlock had never quiet been able to deduce why he'd ever begun a relationship with the man. They weren't exactly compatible. The man didn't understand or respect what Sherlock did. The only true bases for their so-called relationship had been sexual attraction. - Which had almost destroyed Sherlock.

Jacob caught Sherlock's gaze and held it. That long remembered flirtatious desire filled those green eyes, sending a shiver down Sherlock's spin. That look had the ability to turn Sherlock Holmes from genius consulting detective to averaged bumbling mess in a breath. It had been that look that had taken him off his chosen path and into the unsavoury world of drug use. After all, what was a fix between lovers.

Jacob had never considered himself an addict and frankly, nor did anyone else, no one but Mycroft. His big brother had been fundamental in getting him clean and back on track and expected Sherlock's eternal gratitude for it.

Of course Sherlock never saw it that way. He hadn't been an addict either. It had been merely an occasional recreational pastime. The fact that it had led to a close gave with Scotland Yard meant nothing. Hell, without said close shave Sherlock would never have been able to help Lestrade on that kidnap case.

Sherlock fidgeted with his phone again. Why couldn't the man call. Had all of London's criminals decide to have an uncharacteristic day off. His foot began to tap at the thick red carpet until John's hand slammed down on his knee with a whispered command to "Stop."

Sherlock sent him a look of annoyance and challenge but stopped none the less. When he turned his head away from John he noted the sly looks coming from his family. - Well, most of his family. Mycroft was sat in a large chair away from the gathering, reading a book and his father sat there just staring at the tree, deep in thought.

"Here you go Sherlock." Anna announced holding out a wrapped gift to her step brother.

Holmes grumbled as he took it. "I didn't…"

"Don't worry Sherlock, I made sure Carter collected the gifts with your luggage. I know how forgetful you two can be." Mycroft announced from across the room. "All the gifts are under the tree."

Sherlock shot his brother a look that was far from thankful. If rather said 'what are you up to?'

Sherlock begrudgingly opened the gift and groaned. "And what am I meant to do it with this?" he asked as he pulled the terribly ugly jumper away from the box.

"Wear it." Anna smirked. "As much as those expensive shirts look good on you, you must be blood freezing this time of year."

"I do not feel the cold Anna, as you are well aware. Which leads me to assume that this monstrosity is some kind of joke."

Sherlock yelped as an elbow connected with his ribs, causing him to shoot a dangerous look at John, who met it with one of his own. A silent 'be nice' in its depths.

Anna laughed. "Of course it's a joke silly. - Have I ever, have any of us ever been able to give you a present you liked." she added, handing her baby one of the toys they'd unwrapped.

"I did." Jacob murmured just load enough to gain Sherlock, John and miraculously Mycroft's attention. His lips twitching and a gleam in his eyes.

Sherlock swallowed and swore he imagined John shifting just a tad closer to him.

_**~ SHERLOCK ~**_

More presents were opened, more ugly jumpers and useless things exchanged. Sherlock may never understand the point of buying people gifts that were going to be put in a cupboard and never used.

After almost two hours of pointless family interaction, Mary turned to the Sherlock and John. "Didn't you boys buy any gifts for each other?"

John spoke up seeing Sherlock's uneasy at his step-mothers question. "We left them at home."

"Oh yeah." Anna wiggled her brows. "Like that are they?"

"Anna!" Mary blushed, turning away clearly believing Anna had the right end of the stick.

John blushed scarlet at the idea that he and Sherlock had brought each other gifts that were better given in private. The truth was John hadn't brought Sherlock anything quite as excite. Just a scarf, which the man would probably never wear. He doubted Holmes had brought him anything.

The blush receded the moment he saw the irritated and envious look on Jacobs face. John bit the inside of his lip to stop from laughing. Let Hoary Henry think what he wanted.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading, reviewing and faving. :D**


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Sherlock got to his feet, excising himself from the group. It was only 9:37 and he had no desire to spend another six hours until dinner with his family. He didn't give any excuses, he simple made his way to the door, ordering John to bring the ridiculous - his exact words. - pile of presents with him.

John gave the group his usual apologetic nod before gathering the things in his arms and following after Sherlock.

A smug comment followed him out of the room and he had to shake his head. "Well, we know who wears the trousers in that relationship."

John had to shake his head, no truer words were spoken, he was most defiantly Sherlock's bitch and it infuriated the living hell out of him.

Back in their room, John dropped the pile on the bed and folded his arms over his chest.

"Is there something wrong John." Sherlock asked uncaringly, while retrieving his computer.

"You! - Are you always that rude to your family."

"Rude?" Sherlock frown with genuine bewilderment. "I was honest, not rude."

John grumbled throw up his hands. "Unbelievable. - I don't now that you did it, but you continue to amaze me."

"Thank you John."

"This time it wasn't a compliment!" John snapped.

"So you have any idea how ungrateful you sounded back there. - Your family take the time to buy you a gift and do you say thank you? Do you smile? No, you call them ridiculous, pointless and ugly. - You Sherlock Holmes are the most….infuriatingly ungrateful bastard I've ever met!"

Sherlock watched him with an unaffected stare.

"And next time carry your own damn stuff. I'm not your fucking slave." John added finally before storming out of the room.

This of course was nothing new to Sherlock. John often stormed out after an argument, he'd come back the next day calmer and ready to work.

_**~ SHERLOCK ~**_

John strolled thought the hall looking up at the paintings, breathing in calming breaths. He really wish he was in London, then her could go and crash of Sarah's sofa for the night.

He paused beneath a Victorian painting. The man pictured sat in profile and remained him very much of Sherlock, with the sharp features and judging look. The man's hair dark and slicked back, totally unlike Sherlock's mass of unruly curls.

"That's my great-grandfather. - Sherlock's name sake."

John practically jumped out of his skin at the sudden interruption. Turning he came face to face with Percival Holmes.

"He is very much like him. - at least if the dairies are to be believed."

"Oh…. Really? - Then it's a wonder your family line has survived." John said light-heartedly, though the small joke didn't gain the desire smile.

Percival remained John of an old brigadier he'd once met. - If fact he was more that sure that was exactly what Percival was. Every nerve in his body screamed for his to stand to attention and salute the taller man.

"Why are you here Dr. Watson?"

John gaped. "Um…huh…. I'm here with your son."

Percival looked the ex military doctor from top to toe. "In what respect?"

John swallowed. He'd thought he'd be able to get though the weekend without having to say the actual words. "I - I'm…" he couldn't say it, he just could bring himself to speak the word. "I'm his partner." that was better.

Partner had so many meanings and in some respect John Watson was Sherlock's partner. Just not in the way everyone they knew thought.

"Really?" The old man murmured, his slim fingers, so like his sons, brushing at the thick layer of hair on his top lip.

John nodded, even though the man wasn't looking at him but up at the painting. He obviously didn't believe a word john said, he could see it in every look and every movement.

"I met men like you in the army, Doctor."

_Bingo_. John thought absently. _Take that Sherlock Holmes_. "How do you mean Sir." John answered, his back instantly straightening and his tone taking on a more military timber.

Percival thrust his hands into his pocket and looked down at the man. "My son's are all about deduction, like my great-grandfather, I do not share their gifts…. But I know people."

John shifted on his feet, wishing he had his cane cause his leg was beginning to ache, psychosomatic or not. He didn't like where this conversation was heading, but stood respectively silent and waited for Percival Holmes's analysis.

It never came. The older man turned on his heels and left John standing in the hall beneath the painting of Sherlock Holmes looking confusing and concerned.

_**~ SHERLOCK ~**_

Sherlock was sat at the small desk staring at his computer, his fingers steepled and pressed to his lips. He'd finally gotten what he'd wanted, a case, the unfortunately thing was that it was boringly simple. Sometime it drove his crazy who thick Lestrade was, after all the evidence was there clear as day in the crime scene photos.

He wished it hadn't been so easy because he wanted to go home to Baker Street and spend what's left of Christmas in the peace of his home. Maybe if they were at home John wouldn't be flying off the handle over the smallest thing.

Sherlock found himself distracted by John. What had gotten into the man? After six months together surly John wasn't that surprised by his behaviour, but had been. The look on his face while he shouted at him reminded him of his reaction to the Moriarty cases. He'd been disappointed in him then.

As much as Sherlock had surprised John, John had amazed Sherlock. Although they had only been flat-mates for a month or so, he had thought they were well matched. He believed John knew him better than anyone, at least he seemed to, but that he could not see that he had cared about the lives of the people Moriarty had placed in danger simply to get to him, had hurt.

Of course Sherlock had cared. The difference was, as he had tried to explain at the time, that his caring wouldn't help them. Had John wanted him to wring his hands and weep, or stop the bastard that was strapping explosives to their chests?

Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath. That night would always haunt him. His heart had almost stopped when John had walked out of those changing rooms. Of course he should have seen it. He should never have allowed John out of his sight until the bomber was caught. He should has seen so much about that case but had failed and it had almost cost them their lives.

Sherlock tried to ignore the hammering in his chest at the thought. Maybe having John around was a bad idea. Maybe he was better off alone. That way no one could get hurt or killed. But the idea of going back to that solitary life sent a ice cold shiver down his back. As much as he hate to admit it, even to himself, he'd come to depend of John in so many ways.

Opening his eyes he returned his gaze to the crime scene photo's Lestrade had emailed him. With a regretful sigh he set his fingers to composing a reply.

_Arrest the man dressing as Santa on the north corner of Oxford Street. _

_SH._

Sherlock hit send and leant back in his seat. He was not feeling the rush that he usually got from solving a case, probably because he'd done so without moving from his desk. He was growing more irritated and bored by the moment. John was mad at him again. He had Jacob sending come hither looks every five seconds despite the fact Sherlock was with John. - At least as far as the family were concerned. He had Anna and Mary watching them with dream happy looks on their faces. His father hadn't said more than a few words to him. - which wasn't at all unusual and their was Mycroft. He still couldn't figure out why his brother had made him come, especially when he had been adamant about keeping him away from Jacob. He wondered if it perhaps had something to do with Anna's husband, who despite what Anna had told him was neither French or an investment banker.

An uncharacteristically protective urge took hold in his gut. He'd figure out what that man was hiding. Maybe he could get John to see what he could weasel out of Anna, when he finally calmed down.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading, reviewing and faving. :D**

**Will update as soon as I can. Promise.**


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

John turned to head back to his room but couldn't quite face Sherlock just yet so made his way down the stairs. Percival's cryptic remark weighing on his mind.

"I'll be there for New Year. - Of course they don't know…."

John frowned at the overheard conversation. He couldn't place the voice. Sneaking quietly up to the door and peered around the corner.

Leo stood with his back to the door, a phone pressed to his ear. John continued to listen to the secret phone call.

"Yes, I have the package. - I will call you when my flight lands. - I have to go become someone comes looking for me."

John rushed away from the door confused at what he'd heard. Walking at a pace into the large lounge. He came to a halt at the sight of Anna playing with her baby. John instantly felt sympathetic and guilt. Anna was a nice girl who did deserve to be lied to. - none of the Holmes family did.

"Hello John." she smiled up at his entrance. "Look Mickey, it's uncle John…." she said in a baby voice. "I think uncle John and uncle Locky have had a fight, yes I do." anna pouted at the baby, who seemed to girgle in agreement.

John gave a blushed smile and took a seat on the hard sofa watching the young mother and child.

"He never means it you know. - well, he does mean it, but not out of spite."

"Huh - what?"

"The thing with the gift. Sherlock has always been one to speak with out thinking… surely you've noticed that by now?"

"Huh, yeah." he should remember that.

From the moment he'd met the world only consulting detective he'd noticed his inability to think. Sherlock would simply say whatever came to mind without taking into consideration those around him. Sherlock may be a crime solving genius, he could tell the brand of cigarettes simply by the ash but he could not tell when to keep his mouth closed. He could not see how telling a girl that she's put on weight or that they guy she was dating was gay might be seen as heartless. He called everyone an idiot. So was it really that unusable for Sherlock to scorn the gifts he'd been given?

"He still shouldn't have said it." John sighed.

Anna shrugged. "Honestly I only brought the thing to get a rise out of him." she chuckled. "…we all do. I guess you could say it's another of our family traditions. How can get Sherlock the worst present."

John smirked at that. It seemed he wasn't the only one who enjoyed pushing Sherlock's buttons when at all possible.

"You know he was a lot nicer this year." Anna announced turning her attention to him. "And I think that's because of you. - Mycroft's right, your good for him."

"I doubt that."

"I don't." Anna gave him a warm thankful smile. "I hope you two can make it up. I'd hate to see Sherlock fall back to his…. Old ways."

"Old ways?" John frowned, shifting forward on the seat.

"It's really not my place to say…" Anna blushed. "…but I will say that you should keep an eye on Jacob. - Our parents don't know about him and Sherlock or what happened between them, but I do. I know that's why Sherlock stayed away. - But now he has you and he's back. I would hate to lose him again."

John watched Anna's pretty face mellow at the idea of losing the brother she so clearly idolised. He hated having to lie to her and the rest of the family. They had welcomed him with open arms. It was far of him, Sherlock and Mycroft to lead them astray like this. They had to come clean… but coming clean would put Sherlock at risk of falling back in with Jacob and with Anna, Mycroft and his own instincts telling him that wouldn't be a good idea, he knew he had little option but to continue wearing the mask.

He lifted his gaze as Leo strolled causally strolled in. John may not be able to tell Anna and the family the truth about him and Sherlock, but discovering what Leo was up to was the least he could do. He needed to speak to Sherlock about his step-brother in law. - and maybe even apologies… a little.

"I'll leave you to it." John said getting to his feet.

Anna gave his a knowing smile. "See you later."

~ **SHERLOCK **~

Sherlock lay on the bed with his eyes closed and the sleeve of his white silk shirt rolled up. Three nicotine patches adoring his pale forearm. If he was going to get through to day he needed to relax and calm himself.

"that looks comfy."

Sherlock's eyes flew up and he shot up right to meet Jacob's smile as the man stood watching him from the foot of the bed. Swallowing he forced himself to be calm. He was Sherlock Holmes for god sake. "Jacob, what can I do for you?"

Jacob shrugged nonchalantly and began to stole around the room. "We haven't really had any alone time. - Thought we could catch up."

Sherlock watched him lift the jumper John had worn yesterday off the back of a chair.

"At least you have a way of disposing of Anna's present. It looks like it would suit your friend's taste."

Where Sherlock spoke without thinking, there for not meaning insult, Jacob most certainly thought about every word that left his lips and the impact of them.

Sherlock's face hardened at the insult of John's dress sense but was unable to voice a retort. It was a common side effect of being in the same room with Jacob and he hated himself for it.

Climbing off the bed Sherlock stormed towards Jacob, snatching John ugly brown jumper out of his former lovers grasp. Folding it neatly - well, as neat as Sherlock was capable of being. - he placed it on the window seat. When he turned back he saw Jacob's intrigued features.

"Aren't we suddenly the domestic goddess. - doesn't suit you Sherlly." his voice grew husky as he took a step towards the detective. "…though I like the idea of you scrubbing my floors."

Sherlock swallowed at the image that filled his mind, his gaze locking with the other man's. He could feel the pull of those green eyes and the promise of firm lips. It had been so long since he'd kissed anyone, so long since he'd had any physical contact. He told himself and everyone else, over and over that he was past such base desires but the truth was he wasn't.

He missed knowing someone was always there when you needed them, he missed the feeling of another persons touch whether out of comfort or desire. - he missed sex.

Sherlock's jaw tightened and his flesh grew warm as he prepared t give in to that pull. He saw the humour and challenge in Jacob's eyes but couldn't bring himself to care. He just wanted to feel wanted again.

"Sherlock I thing there's something…"

"Sherlock leapt away from Jacob with a guilty blush on his well defined cheeks. His eyes focused on John as the doctor stood motionless in the doorway. The intense moment seemed to drag out for eternity, until John finally cleared his throat and spoke.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt." his tome hard and regimental. "When your free Sherlock I'd like to talk to you about something." with that John turned on his heels and marched in a very military style down the hall.

Sherlock silently groaned. He felt guilty, though there was no real reason to. It wasn't like he and John were actually together. But the guilt was there all the same and if there was one thing Sherlock hated more than being wrong, it was feeling guilty.

"Well, that was awkward." Jacob smirked at the now vacant doorway.

"Goodbye Jacob." Sherlock snapped before walking past him. "I am not available any longer, please remember that and stay away from me."

"Oh come on Sherlly, I can see you still want me."

Sherlock sent him a cold glare before walking out of his room and going after his flat-mate.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading, reviewing and faving. :D**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks to my Beta Magpieintheshadow :D**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER NINE<strong>

Sherlock caught up with John on the stairs. "John! - John what did you want to discuss?"

Watson paused midway down the second flight as his rational mind took hold. He had no real reason to be angry. Just because Sherlock had been caught on the verge of a compromising positions with his ex, it wasn't as if John was actually his partner. He had no say in who Sherlock snogged. It had merely been the shock of walking in on it - At least that's what he told himself.

Taking a calm breath and pushing that unrighteous anger aside, John turned to face the tall detective, "I think we should discuss this privately Sherlock."

Holmes nodded and strolled past Watson, leading the way toward the library, where only a few moments ago John had heard Leo speaking on the phone.

Once inside Sherlock secured the door and turned to face Watson, his pale features a little flushed, "John, about…."

Watson's hand went up to halt his friend, "This has nothing to do with you…with what I walked in on. What you do is your own business Sherlock, I have no opinion."

Sherlock didn't look convinced, "but you do…"

"Sherlock…" John interrupted, "…I don't want to talk about it. I have something more important to talk to you about."

Now Holmes was intrigued, "alright." he thrust his hands into his pockets, "Continue."

"I think there is something not right with your brother-in-law"

"How so?" Sherlock moved further into the room, his attention fully on what Watson had to say.

"Well, first of all he's not French, he's American."

Sherlock stared surprised; he's already deduced that piece of information but was shocked that Watson had discovered it, "How do you know?"

"I overheard him on the phone."

_Huh, so not exactly the science of deduction,_ Sherlock thought amused, "I suspected as much. South Dakota would be my guess."

"You knew?" John gaped. Of course he knew, Sherlock always knows. "Why didn't you say something? It's not like you not to correct false impressions Sherlock. - Why haven't you told your sister?"

"Step-sister." Sherlock corrected.

John rolled his eyes at his friend. He knew Sherlock cared for Anna, it was obvious when you watch them together, "Whatever Sherlock. - What are you going to tell her?"

Sherlock frowned, "Why would I tell Anna?"

John's mouth fell open, "Because she's your sister…." he halted Sherlock with a raised hand before the man had the chance to correct him once again, "… and her husband's lying to her."

"So are we."

John groaned and took a seat, "I know and I hate it." He slid down the chair, "But this is different Sherlock. This is your sister's husband; she deserves to know he isn't who he says he is."

Sherlock watched his flat-mate before strolling around the library, stopping to examine his father's collection. He's spent hours in this library as a child, "You like my family, don't you John."

Watson looked over his shoulder to Sherlock, "Huh? - Sure, they're nice people. Mary and Anna are warm, lovely women, your father reminds me of a brigadier… I haven't really got much of an opinion of Susan…. And…" John fell silent causing Sherlock to look at him.

"And Jacob?"

Watson stared straight ahead.

"John?"

"Sherlock, you do not want to know my opinion of your ex…. Believe me."

Holmes dropped into the seat opposite John and leaned forward on his knees, his fingers once again steeped against his lips.

"What makes you think Jacob is my ex?"

John gave his friend as look that said 'I'm not that much of an idiot'; "you're not the only person who can observe people's behaviour Sherlock."

"I see." Holmes swallowed. He always prided himself of his ability to mask his emotions. "So your opinion?"

John shook his head, "I'm not going there with you Sherlock. - Who you have…. You date is none of my business."

"I quite agree John, but I'm intrigued to know what you think, considering you've obviously taken to playing detective yourself."

Watson heard the scorn and annoyance in his friend's tone. It wasn't clear whether it came from the fact that Sherlock hated being the object of deduction or whether it was because he didn't really want to be faced with what John thought of the man he was clearly still attracted to.

"Are you going to tell Anna?" John asked in an attempt to get back on topic.

"I asked you a question."

"I asked you first."

The two men stared each other in challenge, neither man wanting to give ground.

"I will speak to Mycroft and see what he knows. - Then we'll see what to do."

John nodded.

"Now, your opinion if you please."

John sighed, "Sherlock," looking up he could tell the man wasn't going to allow him off without an answer. But John knew his friend wasn't going to be pleased with his analysis. Taking a painfully deep breath he meet Sherlock's cool blue gaze.

"Fine… you want to know what I think of Jacob? - I think he's an upper class twat who only wants you because you're supposedly with me. I think he's bad for you in every way possible and that if you had half the brains you claim to have you'd stay the hell away from him."

Sherlock just sat there, silent and staring at his flat-mate. He would have to re-evaluate his initial opinion of John Watson, because clearly the man wasn't a complete idiot.

The library door opened suddenly to reveal Mary, smile bright as sunshine, "Finally." she sighed. "Sherlock, John, would you two wonderful young men be willing to help me with dinner. - I can't find anyone else." she gave the pair a loving, pleading look.

Sherlock groaned before getting to his feet, John close behind him. Mary sent them a thankful smile before rushing off.

"I thought you had a cook?" John whispered.

"Mary has this ridiculous need to cook the Christmas dinner herself," Sherlock grumbled, exiting the library with his friend at his back.

~ **SHERLOCK **~

While the pair helped Mary out in the kitchen, Sherlock informed of John of the case Lestrade had sent him.

Dinner went as expected. Tense and uncomfortable. Sherlock and John watched Leo with increased suspicion, Jacob watched Sherlock with increased desire and everyone talked about pointless subjects. After dinner Sherlock took the opportunity to speak to Mycroft about their step-sister's husband.

"Mycroft what do you know about Anna's husband?"

Mycroft sent his brother his usual emotionless expression that bugged the hell out of him, "Why?"

"He's American and I'd say working for either their government or ours."

Mycroft raised a brow, checking his watch. "I'm surprised at you Sherlock, I would have expected you to come to me almost the moment I arrived…." he shook his head. "…been distracted have we?"

Holmes ignored his brother's jibe. "So he does work for you then."

"Of course."

"Does Anna know?"

"No."

Sherlock couldn't ignore the anger that was in his gut. "You're lying to our sister?"

"Step-sister Sherlock." Mycroft clarified.

"Why?"

"Because there is no need for her to know."

"He's her husband Mycroft."

Mycroft watched his younger brother for a long while. "You're beginning to sound like John, Sherlock. - You know what we do, you know how important secrets are to the safety of the country. Leo has an important job that cannot be compromised simply because he happens to be married to our step-sister."

Sherlock didn't know what to say, all he could think about was how angry John would be if he heard this.

"Sherlock, I do not think you need to concern yourself with this. I would think you should spend your time concerning yourself with what you're doing with Jacob."

"What do you mean Mycroft?"

"Come now Sherlock, this is me you're talking to. - You don't think I haven't seen the way you and Jacob are watching each other? Sherlock, I would have thought you'd learnt your lesson, the man is no good."

"I am well aware of your opinion of Jacob, Mycroft."

"I know you are, which is why I don't understand why you're doing it."

"I'm not doing anything." Sherlock snapped.

"Sherlock, you're getting your life straight. I know you don't believe this Sherlock, but I am only watching out for you. I don't want you falling back into that life."

"I appreciate your concern dear brother, but what I do with my life is none of your business."

"It is when I have to clear the mess up afterwards Sherlock."

"I never asked you to."

Mycroft clenched his jaw angrily. Of course Sherlock never asked that of him, that didn't mean he didn't do it. Sherlock was his little brother after all, he would always look out for him. He'd gone out of his way to protect Sherlock since the disaster that was Jacob Harvelle. He's seen off more than a fair share of would be flat-mates. Each one willing to take Mycroft's money in exchange for spying on his brother. - At least until John Watson. A man who according to his therapist report had problems with trust, had stood toe to toe with him and refused the money, then had gone straight back to his brother and saved his life.

"And what about John?"

"What about John?" Sherlock turned to stare at his brother.

"What does he think of Jacob?"

Sherlock narrowed gaze at his brother. "You already know the answer to that question."

"Yes, I do. So if you won't listen to me then don't you think you should listen to him? After all he has been putting his life on the line for you a lot lately. I think that proves he'd watch out for you."

Sherlock frowned. His brother was right and it infuriated him.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading, reviewing and faving. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. :D**

**I hope to update again soon. **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thanks to my Beta** **Magpieintheshadow. You're such a great help.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER TEN<strong>

"Hello John."

Watson was brought to a halt when he exited the bathroom by the infuriatingly smug voice of Jacob. The man stood leaning against the pale coral wall with his hands nestled in the pockets of his expensive jeans. John could feel his heart pick up speed at the sight of the man and his jaw clenched involuntarily. He was determined to maintain the façade of calm dignity despite the urge to hit the twat. Instead he simply walked on past the man without a sound passing his lips.

"I want to apologize, John." Jacob said in a cool unconvincing voice.

Watson didn't even acknowledge he'd heard the other man speak. His gaze was fixed of the door of the room down the hall.

"It must have been hard seeing me and Sherly like that, I can promise you it meant nothing….at least on my side. I was as surprised as you were. I was simply talking to him and then, well…you know. It was lucky you returned when you did. I'm sure Sherly meant nothing by it - but we do have history and you know how it is with first loves and all."

John's hands clenched at his side. It was the tone in the man's voice that hit a nerve. He was out to drive a wedge between him and Sherlock, but that just showed what a fool the man was. Nothing could come between the two friends, of that John was confident. They'd been though so much that it was impossible to think of a life before or after they'd met. John has sometimes wondered if that had even been a life before Sherlock.

If they could survive Mycroft, Donovan and Moriarty, there was no way on earth that this man was going to succeed. Sherlock was his friend, so much so that he was playing the role of boyfriend in order to protect him from his matchmaking step-mother and this man, if that wasn't a strong connection John didn't know what was.

"I understand why you're upset…" Jacob continued, unaware of John's growing temper, "…It must be hard seeing us together and knowing you could never match what we had - We were together for two years."

John turned swiftly to face Jacob with military steel in his gaze. "In secret!" John snapped.

Jacob shrugged. "That was his idea. He used to be so scared of being ousted by his father…" the man grinned, "…I tried to get him to open up."

"If that's the case, you clearly failed." John remarked. His back straightening. "But he seems to be very confident with his father knowing about me. - But then I think it was you who was ashamed, not him. If there's one thing I know about Sherlock, he's not ashamed of being gay. As for what's between me and Sherlock, you have no idea. No idea at all as to how close we are and what we're willing to do for the other. Where as I'm more than sure what is between the pair of you. You use him and he lets you, because he's an idiot and you're an arrogant bastard who couldn't give a toss about what Sherlock does or cares about as long as he's getting your rocks off!"

Jacob stared at John in bewilderment. He most certainly hadn't expected the man to stand up to him, which just added to John believe of the man's stupidity. After all he'd been in the army, he knew just how to take care of himself.

John turned on his heels and headed back to the room a satisfied grin on his face. That should shut the wanker up, he thought to himself.

~ **SHERLOCK **~

"Well that's because you're a moron who has no idea what the hell you're doing…. I don't care what you say, just do us all a favour and quit before yours isn't the only life destroyed….He doesn't need you dragging him down with you."

John frowned as Sherlock ended the call and slammed the phone down on the desk. He flinched at the sound.

"Sherlock, is that my phone?" John grumbled, the buzz he'd gotten from putting Jacob in his place a few seconds ago quickly faded.

Sherlock spun around at John sudden voice. He looked guiltily at the phone. "Huh, yes it was."

"Would you mind not taking your bad temper out on my belongings? - Who was it anyway."

Sherlock turned back to the desk, lifting the mobile and flipping it over in his hand to make sure he hadn't damaged it. He shrugged at the question. "Just another idiot."

Watson sighed as he walked towards the wardrobe where his suit waited for him. "Whatever. - Well, the bathroom's free."

"Clearly John." Sherlock smiled as he collected his things from the end of the bed. "I will get changed in there as you seem uncomfortable with see me in the nude." he reached past Watson to collect his own suit before strolling to the door.

John rolled his eyes. He was never living that down.

~ **SHERLOCK **~

The pair descended the stairs at 8:17 to find that Mary's party guests had already begun to arrive. John couldn't believe anyone wanted to travel to a party on Christmas Day, but the upper classes did things that the normal populous wouldn't even think of.

Glancing over the crowd John was suddenly hit with a feeling of trepidation. What was he supposed to do? He began to fidget with his brown tweed jacket.

"Stop John."

"When you said there would be a party, Sherlock, I didn't think it would be so…. Smart."

Sherlock didn't even attempt to hide his amusement at John's discomfort. "You look fine John."

John turned to hard eyes on his flatmate who stood next to him in a smartly tailored bond-like tux that made him look wonderful. "You're the world's worst liar Sherlock." he grumbled.

Holmes laughed. "Actually John, I'm the best." he winked. "You just never believe a word I say. - Which I can't fathom actually, considering I've never lied to you."

The pair's gazes locked. It was true, Sherlock hadn't lied to John… manipulated, bossed around but never lied. It wasn't that John didn't trust or have faith in Sherlock; it was simply that he was out of his comfort zone, surrounded by people he would never have believed in a thousand years he would be associating with.

The sudden squeal of Mary pulled the pair back to the real world.

"Sherlock, John finally. - come with me, I want to show you off." she smiled beautifully at John. Locking her arm though the boys' and leading them off towards a group of people of around her own age.

"George, Louise… You remember Sherlock…"

John bit his lip at the couple's concerned nervous smile. Oh yeah, they remember Sherlock alright.

"And this is his partner, Dr John Watson." Mary introduced with far too much pride, that it cause John to blush scarlet.

The couple barely had time to say hello before Mary was dragging them away again. John sending Sherlock an uneasy eye roll that made the tall detective grin as they came to a halt before another couple.

She continued to take them around the room. Arms joined together as if fearing the pair might escape, which would be precisely what they'd do if they could. From friend to friend, Mary's introduction grew longer and held more pride.

"John survived in Afghanistan…. Wounded in action…. Sherlock's the world's only consulting detective…working with Scotland Yard…. Helped solve that serial killer six months ago…" and so on around the room, until everyone knew of Mary's brilliant step-son Sherlock Holmes and his partner Dr John Watson.

John had his suspicions as too why Mary kept them moving, never staying too long with anyone. One look at Sherlock and he could see the man deducing what secrets they held. He'd actually had to kick Sherlock a couple of time when he opened his mouth to correct a man's supposed promotion, or the state of a woman's marriage.

Finally they were able to free themselves from Mary only to have Anna rushing up to them with a merry grin of her lips.

"Well aren't we the toast of the evening." she laughed up at Sherlock, "makes a change from last time."

"Your mother seems determined to show of John to everyone." Sherlock said plainly.

"And who could blame her." Anna winked to the doctor. "Looking good there John."

"John is under the belief that he looks terrible, despite my statements to the contrary."

Anna's grin grew as she nestled up between the pair. "Then trust me John. - You look great."

"Thank you Anna."

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"No, but thanks anyway." John sighed.

Anna shook her head and looked up at her big brother. "You obviously aren't doing your job right Locky. - So, what you got for me?"

John frowned at the pair as Sherlock smirked mischievously, looking towards the crowd.

"Well, Amanda Spencer's marriage is on the rocks, probably because her husband's having an affair with her sister - Tennant is in love with his personal assistant. - Oh and Michael Collin's promotion's a lie, he's actually been made redundant."

"Is that it?" Anna sighed. "I was hoping more something a little more juicy."

Sherlock shrugged and sighed. "Well, what can I say, your mother's friends are boring."

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading, reviewing and faving. - Next chapter coming soon. Hopefully. **

**PS: Wishing all of you a great holiday whatever you may be celebrating, I hope the time with your own families isn't quite so awakward :D ROFL. **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: As you might have discovered I had to up the rating to M for future chapters. Just to be save. - If you not Sherlock/Watson slasher I should warn you this is going to get slashy... sorry :D**

**For those still with me...Hope you enjoy :D Thanks to my Beta Magpieintheshadow**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER ELEVEN<strong>

Anna, John and Sherlock took up a small corner of the large reception room as more guests arrived. Sherlock giving Anna what she wanted in the form of three affairs, two pregnancies and one closeted banker, while drinking a large bottle of champagne to themselves.

Around them the party got into full swing. John watching, thought of the difference between what they considered a party and what he did. His family parties, when they'd had them, had been filled with loud crappy music, terrible mini sausage rolls and tons of alcohol. This was nothing like that.

"Oooh." Anna gasped suddenly, an hour into the festivities. "I forgot…" she giggled mischievously to herself, which had both men looking at her with uncertainty.

Anna jumped up from her seat and rushed away, her glass still clutched in her hand.

"What's she up too?" John asked Sherlock, certain he'd know only to have the detective shrug.

"I don't know, but I'd wager it won't bode well for us…." he met his friends gaze with an apologetic look. "…Whatever it is, I will apologize now."

John smiled. "I'm sure it's nothing too horrible, she probably just wants some silly photo or something."

John should really learn not to say such things, it's common knowledge that whenever you say something like '_nothing too horrible_' or _'it can't get any worse' _it usually does.

Anna returned with a flushed face and her hand hidden being her back. Instantly John knew something very horrible was about to happen. He gave Sherlock an uneasy worried look that the detective mirrored.

"It wouldn't be Christmas without this." Anna chuckled as she pulled the sprig of mistletoe out from behind her.

Never had two men looked more terrified. Not even being faced with impending death had brought that look to the men's faces. They quickly became aware of others eyes on them. How had they suddenly become the focus of everyone's attention?

"Oh come on boys. - what's a little kiss between friends and family." Anna prodded.

"Anna!" snapped Sherlock with a restrained anger, leaping to his feet. "Don't be ridiculous and childish. We are not here for your amusement." He knew John had a line and kissing him was most certainly on the wrong side of it.

Anna flushed a little, looking at the brother she obviously idolised. John could see the sheen of embracement on her face and the slight glint of tears in her eyes. Sympathy filled his gut. She hadn't meant anything by the proposal and after all, he and Sherlock were meant to be a couple, it would only be natural for Anna and everyone to assume they wouldn't mind kissing in public. Though something told John that PDA wasn't Sherlock thing.

As his face burned, his gaze scanned the crowds. Those that weren't staring at them with fascination were looking away and whispering. His eyes fell on the suspicious glare of Jacob across the room; he could see the spark of satisfaction in his eyes. John knew what he thought. - That he'd succeeded in driving that wedge between them, which didn't bode well for the future. It wouldn't take him long to make another move on Sherlock and from what he'd gathered from Anna, that would be a disaster of epic proportions.

There was only one thing John could think of to resolve the situation. To save Anna from her embarrassment and make it completely clear to Jacob that Sherlock was off limits. - The problem was, John wasn't overly sure he could do it.

His heart race with indecision. Harry would run him over the coals for being so small minded, that was after she'd reminded him of that dare back when he was seventeen. The memory of which sent an ice cold shiver down his spine. Damn his sister for that, though in hindsight, he had deserved it for being an ignorant prat.

Getting to his feet without allowing any other thoughts to seep into his mind, other than '_I've done this before. One quick peck and its over. Just close your eyes and think of England_.' He took the mistletoe from Anna's slightly shaking hand and turned to Sherlock, who had never looked so surprised in all the time he'd know him. Not even when he'd walked out of that changing room at the pool.

"John?" Sherlock whispered. "What are you…"

He didn't get to finish the question as John, eyes tightly closed, pulled him down for a kiss that wasn't exactly passionate. - Hell, it could barely be considered a kiss, at least not from Sherlock's limited experience. It was a show for the viewers.

John tried not to think of anything expect that this was an act, a way of making things clear to Jacob. Problem was being a man who'd gone without for so long, makes it blood hard not to think about just how soft and strangely feminine Sherlock's lips where. Or the intriguing scent that was radiating off of him. But he fought the instinct to explore. He kept his hands motionlessly where they where, one above their heads holding the mistletoe and the other wrapped around Sherlock's lapel. He kept his jaw clenched tightly closed, not for fear of Sherlock taking this kiss further, but that he might. When he was sure the audience had had their fill and the point had been made, he pulled away from a still shocked Sherlock, handed the mistletoe to an equally surprised Anna and retook his seat.

It took a few minuets for the room to get back to normal. Anna scurrying off shamefully, yet somehow glowing with satisfaction. Sherlock sat back down next to John and the pair fell silent for a few moments.

"Why did you do that John?"

Watson shrugged. "I felt sorry for Anna. - She hadn't meant to upset you or me; she was just being… a kid sister. - Besides…" his gaze instantly lifted in search of Jacob. "…some people needed convincing."

Sherlock shifted in his seat and swallowed hard. Of course that had been the reason. What else could it have been? John was just playing the role Mycroft had cast him in.

"Well, as long as you remember…"

"Yeah, you're married to your work. - How could I forget, since for some unfathomable reason so am I."

Sherlock looked at John and grinned widely. "Don't say it like that John, you love it. - We both know that. - You'd be lost without me and our cases."

John grumbled in the affirmative, shaking his head. "That doesn't mean I have to like it, Sherlock. - Since meeting you, my life been one endless…."

"Adventure?"

"Disaster is more like it." he chuckled.

~ **SHERLOCK **~

John walked aimlessly around the house in search of Sherlock. He'd been pulled away from his flatmate to speak to some Harley Street doctor. The rather dull medical discussion had lasted a good half hour. Thirty minutes of John smiling, nodding and silently praying Holmes would come rescue him, but there had been no sign of the detective. Knowing Sherlock, he'd probably considered it just punishment for siding with Mycroft or maybe for showing him up with that kiss earlier. - The one that John most certainly wasn't thinking about.

"Looking for someone John?" Anna smirked knowingly. She'd kept her distance since the mistletoe incident an hour or so ago but John was constantly aware of her watching him and Sherlock.

He smiled at her. Being around Anna made him wish him and Harry had a better relationship, but that would never happen as long as Harry was drinking. It hurt too much to watch her drinking her life away. If only she'd get help, but Harry was a stubborn cow and never, never listened to anyone. - Certainly not her brother."

"So where is he?"

Anna shrugged. "Lord knows, hiding away probably, that what he usually does." she glanced around the room. "Well, Mycroft and Percy are here, so he's not off drinking or arguing with them…" she laughed. "…so I'd lay money on the library."

John followed her gaze around the room, taking in all those present. - And more importantly who was absent. His gut tightened when he'd noticed that Sherlock wasn't the only one missing. Anna clearly had the same idea, if the look she was giving him was any indication.

"The library you say?"

Anna nodded.

John turning towards the hall, Anna right behind him. Before they reached it, they bumped into Mycroft.

"And where are you two escaping to?" he asked in his casual manner.

"Mycroft have you seen Sherlock?" John asked plainly, refusing to show his suspicions while all the while knowing the Mycroft would know just what was running though his head with a single look.

Mycroft looked from John to Anna to the room beyond then back to John. "No. - Try the library." he replied, his chin raised and his lips pulled tight angrily.

John gave a small nod and carried on towards the library across the hall. Now with both Anna and Mycroft as his shadow.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading, reviewing and faving. :D Your all so wonderful :D**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: First I'd like to say thanks for sicking with me. :D I love reading your reviews, it makes me so happy to know that your enjoying this story as much as I am. Second, a lot of said reviews demanded the next chapter as I left it on a rather intriguing cliffhanger... (wicked grin) and as its christmas, I figure "your wish is my command".**

**The rating updated to M for this chapter. Hope you don't hate it or me. **

**For those still with me...Hope you enjoy :D Thanks to my Beta Magpieintheshadow**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER TWELVE<strong>

Sherlock found the peace of the library comforting. He hated parties. He'd never been the sociable type, vanishing at the first opportunity had been his Christmas tradition for as long as he could remember. Well before his mothers death and his fathers marriage. He loved the feeling of being shut away in the library knowing he wouldn't be disturbed by anyone, because they were too busy drinking.

Over the three year since removing himself from his family, it had been the only thing he'd missed. - Well, maybe not the only thing. He could probably add Anna to that list. - What he hadn't missed was the lying and the secrets.

When he'd begun his relationship with Jacob a few months after his father's marriage, he hadn't expected it to be a secret. Of course he knew they wouldn't be able to come clean right away, he as much as Jacob wanted time to get to know each other before the family found out, but he had assumed it would only be a few months at most. But Jacob had told Sherlock over and over that neither Percival or Mary would be happy for them, and that he wanted to have Sherlock to himself and Sherlock being the love-struck fool, had allowed himself to be persuaded.

And so what he'd thought would be a short secret relationship had turned into a three year one that brought with it anxiety, a lack of confidence and substance abuse, till he wasn't even half the man he was destined to be. Jacob had pulled Sherlock into his care free life of sex and drugs and to his amazement Sherlock had gone willingly. Because the high was just too intoxicating.

Sherlock was well aware that if it hadn't have been for Lestrade and Mycroft he'd probably still be stuck there… or dead. But with sobriety came boredom and the desperate need for that high.

The only thing he'd been able to find to replace it was the constant danger and adventure of being a consulting detective. There was nothing like being shot at, chased and challenged to relieve his boredom.

And for five years that's how he lived his life. One case after another, one criminal trying to out wit him and failing. One gunshot or sword fight. - Always on the edge of death because sometimes life was just too boring. He'd pushed away everything that had been a part of his old life, his lover and his family. He buried every desire and need, every thing that made him human, buried it deep beneath logic and science. He'd made his work his life and that had suited him perfectly.

Until one case, one criminal, one deathly challenge and he was saved again. Not by Mycroft or Lestrade but by an ex army doctor with a psychosomatic limp and a craving for same high. - Though he didn't know it.

Since that day, Sherlock hadn't been bored, that need for excitement, for the high, had diminished to the point where he wasn't willingly throwing himself into the path of danger. He hadn't felt alone. - Not that he would admit to feeling lonely before.

The problem now was that that intoxicating need was back. Everything he spent years locking away was now slowly creeping back into him. He'd known it would happen. It always did when he was around Jacob. That had been the reason he stopped coming to visit for the holidays, because those first two years after their split had felt living hell itself. He'd felt like that man in a boat. 'Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink'. Jacob had been his drug then and it had taken all his will power not to relapse.

His only saving grace this time was John. The man was like an anchor to him, but Jacob and his own hormones seemed determined to cut the rope of that anchor. Every time he was alone with Jacob it was a battle to remain strong and sensible and Sherlock was beginning to worry that he would not be able to hold out against his ex lover for much longer, as that intoxicating need grow and called for him to succumb.

"Hey there sexy."

A shiver ran through Sherlock at the all too familiar voice. The heat that resounded in that voice heading straight to his irrational idiotic libido, causing his heart to race. He tried to ignore it and the man himself, but neither would allow it. The need bubbling up inside him.

He felt more than heard the man's approach and with it the also familiar sweet odour of cannabis.

"What do you want Jacob?" trying to control every nerve in his body.

"Nice show out there earlier. - I'm sure most of them were convinced."

Sherlock finally glanced up from the book he hadn't truly been reading, his features schooled. "Show?"

Jacob grinned. "The kiss. - You think I don't know a faked kiss when I see one. - Especially when it involves you?"

Holmes swallowed hard, he hadn't wanted that kiss. He hadn't expected it either. He had thought John would rather face off Moriarty again rather than kiss him.

"…have to give your both credit though, you almost had me believing you'd moved on. Even though everything about the pair of you is quite ridiculous.

Sherlock frowned. "Ridiculous?"

"Yeah. I mean come on, you moving in with a guy after just six months? - Not to mention your sudden domestic route and the two of your running around solving cases together, huh, all completely over the top. - I know you Sherlock, and this whole thing isn't you. I really should have seen it instantly but I guess I was still a little surprised. - Who's idea was it? Mycroft? - Is this John guy one of his flunkies?"

Sherlock met his ex's gaze with a confident and slightly smug smile. "For your information Jacob, I moved in with John after a mere twenty seven hours not six months. We are very much domesticated, as can be attested to by anyone who knows us. - Oh and as for the cases, maybe you should check the internet once and a while, you'll find John's blog very detailed and informative." Sherlock concluded with his head high, meeting the other man's gaze unflinchingly.

Jacob stood there genuinely surprised. "Come on Sherlock, really?"

"Really."

Jacob frowned at his reply. "So you and John are together? - really together?"

You didn't need to be Sherlock Holmes to know that when a person hesitates it means their lying. So when Sherlock didn't instantly confirm the fact that him and John were 'really' together, Jacob smirked with triumph.

"Huh, I knew it. - He's straight right?" Jacob chuckled, a cloud of smoke floating from his lips and into Sherlock's face.

The detective tried not to inhale the substance but he need to breath and Jacob's statement had him inhaling deeply. The instant the smoke hit his system, his eyes flattered closed and he sighed softly. It had been so long since he's taken so much as a cigarette. Jacob laughed again causing Sherlock's eyes to snap open.

"You want?" Jacob asked, waving the joint at his ex.

Sherlock shook his head. He couldn't risk taking so much as a single puff. He'd been clean for five year and had every intention of staying so.

"Oh, come on Sherly. - You know you want it. - You want so much from me, don't you?" he said in a low husky voice that held so much promise.

Holmes clenched his hands at his sides. His mind telling him that he was a genius and that taking that joint and giving into Jacob was not the actions of a genius. But words meant very little when Jacob stepped into Sherlock's personal space and blew another cloud of smoke into his face.

Sherlock eyes closed again. He felt the small thin roll of paper and cannabis placed between his slim lips. He fought the urge to draw on it, but the ex addict in him was just too strong. He breathed in deeply, taking as much of the drug as he could into his lungs before holding it in while the addictive substance raced around his body. He realised it on a sigh of utter pleasure before taking another draw.

After repeating the action a few more times, the paper was replaced by firm lips, and another drug was reintroduced to Sherlock's system.

Sherlock hated himself as he gave into not one but two cravings. His hands snaked up so that his slim fingers could comb through his ex lovers dark locks. Pulling his mouth closer. His tall lean figure pressing itself up against the other man's more broad athletic one. Sherlock felt Jacob's hands roaming over his back and ass as he manoeuvred them away from the middle of the room towards the desk.

When the back of Sherlock's legs hit the heavy oak, he was forced to arch back against it as Jacob continued to press forward. His tongue skimming along Sherlock's. His long leg slid between Jacob's and he could feel the other man's arousal against his thigh and it ignited his own into full force.

Both men sort friction from each other, their kiss growing wild and heated. Sherlock heard his own moans and whimpers, gasps and sighs. He felt the unmistakable feeling of fingers brushing against his groin followed by the sound of his fly. He arched up into the touch.

Then it hit him. Something in his drug and lust addled mind cleared and with that clarity came a thought. A realisation.

John Watson had limped into his life and shown him what he'd been hiding from for so many years, given him a glimpse of what it meant to care again. Friendship had sprung to life and had kept Sherlock from deaths door more than a few times. Because there was one thing Sherlock knew above all else. John would always be there to watch his back.

Knowing that gave Sherlock a feeling of connection and security that he hadn't felt before. Not with another human being, especially not Jacob. John was his friend beyond all reason, he took his criticism, he ignored everyone who told him that Sherlock would get him killed, he faced ever danger at his side, he would take a bullet for him, he would blow himself 'til kingdom come if it meant saving Sherlock from his enemy. - He would swallow his pride and kiss him in public for a reason Sherlock still couldn't understand.

John Watson was the best thing in his life and right now, Sherlock had the sinking feeling that he was betraying that man. - Whether they were 'couple' or not, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were a together.

Sherlock pushed Jacob away with all his strength, gasping for air as he did so. His head buzzing from the dope.

"Sherly." Jacob groaned. "Stop being a tease."

"I - I can't do this…." Holmes pushed more forcibly causing Jacob to step away.

Sherlock sat up on the desk, becoming fully aware of just how far they'd gone when he caught sight of himself. But what really caught his attention was the library door, hanging open with three shadows hovering in the light. Sherlock stared open mouthed at the figures as shame - an emotion Sherlock hated above all others - and guilt flooded him.

"John." he sighed, "I…" he fell silent as the doctor lifted his chin and excused himself, leaving Anna and Mycroft to deal with their brother.

~ **SHERLOCK **~

"You're an idiot Sherlock! - A damnable foolish idiot!" Anna shouted. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Sherlock ignored his step-sister as he adjusted his clothing.

"I told you to stay the hell away from him Jacob!" Mycroft ordered in an uncharacteristically harsh tone.

"Why you do it?" Anna snapped. "You've got a great thing with John and you throw it away for my bastard of a cousin!"

"Hey!" Jacob snapped at the insult.

"Screw you Jacob!" Anna yelled. "You just had to do it, didn't you? - You just couldn't leave them be. What the fuck is it with you?"

"It's not like I forced myself of him!" Jacob snapped back.

"No you just hovered around making eyes and catching him when John wasn't there. We're not blind idiots Jacob. - Well at least most of us aren't." Anna turned hard eyes on Sherlock.

"I want you out of this house Jacob." Mycroft added glaring at his step-mother's nephew.

"What? - You can't…"

Mycroft took a dangerous step forward. "Leave Jacob and pray your body isn't dragged from the Thames." the man's eyes cold and filled with warning.

Jacob swallowed and looked from Sherlock to Anna. "You wouldn't dare." he said breathlessly.

"Stay a second longer Mr Harvelle and find out."

Jacob may have been a lot of things but truly stupid wasn't one of them. He grumbled insults as he marched out of the library.

Mycroft turned on his brother then, his temper easing considerably. "So?"

Sherlock looked up. "So what?"

"What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't, I believe that was the problem." he sighed, ruffling his hair. "I just needed…. You know."

Anna frowned at him. "So instead of going to your boyfriend, you go to Jacob."

Sherlock shared a look with Mycroft before turning guilty eyes on Anna. "John's not my boyfriend." he stated.

"Fine, partner." Anna groaned.

"He's not my partner either…. Not in that sense anyway. - He's my flatmate and my colleague. That's all."

Anna glanced between Sherlock and Mycroft.

"Mycroft told our parents that John as my partner so as to avoid your mother's matchmaking…"

"And this very situation." Mycroft added. "I had hoped that thinking Sherlock was in a steady relationship would have kept Jacob away from Sherlock. - I underestimate the man."

Anna was still staring between the pair. Finally she meet Sherlock's gaze. "Bollocks!" she snapped.

Sherlock gaped. "Pardon me."

"I said bollocks. - I've never seen two people so clear meant for each other as you and John."

Sherlock sighed, shaking his head. "Anna, you're being romantically childish again. And your supposed gaydar is on the fritz…" he smiled. "…John's straight."

Anna raised a brow. "Oh, really? - you want to make a wager on that?" she smirked. "Cause for a straight guy he's awfully quick to kiss you, and not to mention he looked rather angry when he left."

Sherlock looked to Mycroft before looking back at his step-sister. There was no way she was right. He'd know. John had been dating Sarah. He was straight. - He just had to be straight.

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><p><strong>AN: As always thanks for reading, review and faving :D I love you all for it. **

**I will try to get another chapter done as soon as possible but my plan to have this finished for Christmas doesn't look promising. But Christmas is the time for miracles so who knows.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Merry Christmas to you all, and as a gift, not only is this a quick new post but also something I think you've been waiting for :D Hope you liked it.**

**For those still with me...Hope you enjoy :D Thanks to my Beta Magpieintheshadow**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER THIRTEEN<strong>

When John turned away from the library he was calm and collected. At least that was the outward appearance the guests saw, but no one could see or would believe the volcano bubbling with him. - Least of all John himself.

Walking in on Holmes like that had shocked the colour right out of Watson. After everything he'd said about not liking or trusting Jacob, Holmes had gone back to the jerk, completely disregarding his friends' opinion. Typical Sherlock really.

Heading towards the stairs John clenched his jaw at the pain radiating through his leg. It hadn't hurt this badly in months. - Not since meeting Sherlock. Now it felt like someone was driving nails straight through the bone. His mind was uneasily silent as well, like those moments before a thunder storm when the whole world was in expectation of the chaos to come.

John walked on, his gaze fixed on his destination, when a figure rushed into his path.

"John, my dear. Thank heavens. - Could you come please? Mrs Singer looks terribly ill and Doctor Wilson was called away."

Unthinkingly John nodded and followed Mary into the reception room where a large older woman sat on a chair by the fire breathless and flushed. John worked on autopilot, dealing with the patient without much thought. Something he'd done a lot of while on service. Deducing that there was nothing seriously wrong with her and that all she really needed was some fresh cool air and a glass of ice cold water, he lifted himself off the floor with a wince and continued of his way to his room.

He froze at the sight of Jacob leaving the library. His features flushed and his suit still in disarray from Sherlock's desperate clawing hands. The man caught sight of John and sent him an arrogant, self-satisfied grin, while running his thumb over his lips in a gesture usually reserved for removing a lovers lipstick, but in this case was clearly meant to highlight the fact he'd just finished snogging Sherlock.

As was usual when John was swamped with adrenaline, the pain in his leg vanished and his hand stopped shaking. He wasn't thinking, that was the thing, he was acting on instinct and at that moment his instincts were those of a soldier who saw a threat to what he'd sworn to protect.

He was in front of Jacob before either of them knew it, his fist raised and swinging, all the forced that years of military training gave him behind it. John Watson was a doctor; he knew bodies which meant he knew exactly where to hit to cause the most damage and pain.

Bone hit bone; a yell of agony erupted, drawing everyone's attention. John stood staring at his victim - if he could be called such - as he doubled over, both hands clutched to his nose as blood poured. John was well aware that he'd broken the bastards' nose, as much as he was aware that he'd broken his path as a doctor. - but it hadn't been the first time and right now as that satisfied hum filled his body he didn't give a shit.

After watching the bleeding man for a few seconds more, John stepped past him and started up the stairs. He could hear the sound of surprised people behind him, but didn't stop to explain his actions - probably because he didn't understand them. He knew that his reaction was unwarranted and senseless but something in his gut and that dark unexplored part of his brain said it was necessary.

John arrived back at his room and just stood there for a second staring at it. The bed was made perfectly, but the room was a mess with Sherlock's discarded clothing from earlier. It was all so completely familiar and natural to him yet for some inexplicable reason…new.

~ **SHERLOCK **~

The conversation in the library was interrupted by a yell of agony and rushing footsteps that had all three occupants sprinting for the door. In the doorway they froze to watch John Watson walking calmly up the stairs and Jacob stood bent double as blood gushed from a broken nose with Mary staring at the scene with a great deal of confusion.

Sherlock's gaze remained on the retreating John with surprise. Watching as he ever so calmly took one step at a time and noting the flexing of the fingers on his right hand.

"Yeah, totally straight." Anna grinned with satisfaction.

Sherlock remained silent from the surprise. Surely John hadn't hit Jacob because of what he'd walked in on. Jacob must have said something. That was the only explanation - except all the evidence said otherwise.

Sherlock suddenly felt himself go a little light-headed as his heart rate increased.

"If I were you big brother…" Anna said at his side. "I'd go and grovel… a lot."

Sherlock was rushing towards the stairs before the last words were out of his step-sisters mouth.

"Sherlock?" Mary called. "Sherlock, what's happening?"

But the detective wasn't speaking; he was taking the steps two at a time.

~ **SHERLOCK **~

John was packing away his things when Sherlock burst into the room breathlessly, causing Watson to jump.

"Dammit Sherlock." John snapped, clutching his chest.

Sherlock took in the sight before him and felt his heart sink. "You're leaving?"

John shrugged and glanced over at his flatmate, not answering straight away. "I think it would be best if I head back to Baker Street."

"Why?" Sherlock frowned.

John stared at him like he was the most brain-dead creature in existence. "Because, I just punched your boyfriend in the face in front of your family and their guests." He turned back to his bags, "Sorry about that by the way."

"He's not my boyfriend John - What you saw…"

"I'm not an idiot Sherlock, I know what I saw, I don't need a blow by blow account thank you." he murmured harshly. "I just…"

A heavy silence fell on the room. Sherlock shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "You're angry with me again."

John took a deep breath and released it with a huff. "I'm not angry Sherlock, I'm disappointed… again." Watson turned to glare at him. "After everything he did, after all those years of getting clean, why the hell would you go back to him? - And after everything I said."

Sherlock frowned. "How do you…"

"Anna. - She told me everything. - She was worried about you, with good reason apparently."

Knowing that John and Anna had been talking about him hit that sensitive nerve in Sherlock. He hated having his personal life discussed. He hated being told what he should or shouldn't do. Especially by idiotic people who didn't understand a thing. They had no idea who Sherlock Holmes was or what he wanted.

"I told you before John; don't make a hero out of me. Don't think that I think or feel the way you do, because I don't and never will do. I have my needs and have no intention of altering my life just to please you and my family." he snapped coolly.

John shook his head. "You're better than that Sherlock. We all see it."

"No John, I'm really not."

The two men stared at each other for a few intense moments before John turned away from the consulting detective, disappointment and anger blazing in his features.

"Fine." he sighed. "I'll see you back at Baker Street when you've finished feeding your addictions."

Sherlock lifted his head in an act of defiance, ignoring the painful pounding in his chest. He hated arguing with John, he hated John being mad at him. He hated his own damned arrogant pride. "Th-that's not necessary John."

"Yes it is. - I've spent the last twenty four hours lying to your family, which I'm sure they won't appreciate, especially after the scene down stairs. - Besides, I'm not going to stay here and watch you make a fucking idiot of yourself. - All I ask is that if you're bringing that bastard back with you, let me know so I can be out of the house."

"John I…" Sherlock's voice gave out. He couldn't say it. He couldn't beg John to stay any more than he could admit just what the doctor meant to him. It was easier just to let him go home. Let him calm down then after Christmas, with any luck, this whole ridiculous mess could be forgotten and they'd go back to normal. Sherlock could do that. - After all, he's spent six months ignoring his feelings for his flatmate, what was another fifty years.

"Very well John - I will return… after New Year." Sherlock stated. That should give him time to calm down. He thought.

John paused, staring down at his bag. His heart pounding in his throat so hard he had to swallow a few times to dislodge it. He hadn't been away from Sherlock longer than a night and the idea of almost a week away from the irritating man should make him sigh with pleasure, only it didn't. He was dreading it to the point of pain. He was beginning to wonder what was wrong with him. The words co-dependent screamed through his head. Maybe they needed this time away from each other.

"Ok." he murmured.

"I'll get Mycroft to have his car take you home."

"That won't be necessary Sherlock, I get the train."

"It's Christmas Day, John… there aren't any trains. - besides it's the least he can do after dragging you into this nonsense."

John wanted to argue but the thing about Sherlock was he was always right. So he remained silent as he watched the detective leave the room and tried his hardest to explain away the painful feeling in his gut as indigestion.

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><p><strong>AN: Sadly this might be my last post for a few days, you know Christmas Chaos. :( But don't worry, I may not be able to post but I will be writing. So hopefully you'll have the rest of the story after Boxing day. (fingers crossed) **

**Again wishing you happy holiday and see ya soon. **

**Gatergirl :D**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Reposted this chapter. It has been Beta'ed. ****Thanks to my Beta Magpieintheshadow**

**Merry Christmas to you all, and as a gift :D Hope you liked it.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER FOURTEEN<strong>

The knock on the door surprised John as he was pulling on his black jacket. He'd packed all his things and had changed out of his suit and into his jeans and beige jumper in preparation to leave. He called for his visitor to enter.

The door opened to reveal Percival Holmes, looking evenly but the brigadier John expected him to be.

"John."

"Sir?"

"I understand your leaving?" Percival remarked, standing with his hands clasped behind his back.

John faced the man with a raised chin and a straight back. "Yes Sir. - I would like to apologize for the scene downstairs a little while ago, it was inexcusable."

Percival waved it off. "I'm sure Jacob deserved it. If it wasn't for Mary I wouldn't allow that men within three foot of this house. - Certainly after what he did for to Sherlock five years ago."

John frowned. "You knew?"

"Of course I knew, he's my son. You think I didn't see the change in my child after he met that man, then when he stopped attending family functions; it doesn't take a genius to know why."

"Why didn't you do something?" John said with a hint of anger.

Percival met the other man's accusing gaze unflinchingly but said nothing. John could see the guilt in his gaze. The man probably blamed himself already without John adding to it. But what kind of father stood by and watched his son fall under the influence of a man like Jacob Harvelle. John hadn't known him ten minutes before he knew what kind of man he was.

"He is Mary's sisters son…." the man began to explain. "…she practically raised him after his parents died. She thinks of him as her own. She adores him almost as much as she does Sherlock. I don't think she would ever believe him capable of any wrong doing."

John hung his head. He knew the type; his father had been the same with Harry. She could never do wrong in his eyes.

"You still should have done something."

Percival nodded in agreement. "I was not fully aware John, of just what had happened between them, of what Jacob had drawn Sherlock into until Mycroft informed me of Sherlock's arrest. After that it was too late, Mycroft was already in the process of sorting his brother out."

John just stood there watching the pain in the older man's face. Despite what he had observed of the Holmes family, who seemed reluctant to show any deep emotion, they cared a great deal for one another. An awkward silence fell between the two men as the stood in the bedroom. Neither one knowing what to say. John shifted his weight.

"Sir I should…. Mycroft's driver will be waiting for me." John lifted his bag off the bed.

"Please doctor a moment." Percival said in his most authoritative voice. John paused. "…I don't know what happened downstairs, but I can hazard a guess. Whatever it was, do not let it come between you and my son. I have never seen him looking so at easy and content with life. You are very good for him. - Can you now put whatever it is down to a lapse in judgement?"

John bowed his head. Obviously Sherlock had informed his family of the true state of their relationship. Taking a breath, John met the man's gaze as only a soldier could. "Sir, I know you were informed that Sherlock and I are 'together' and that we have not said anything to the contrary, but the truth is that Sherlock and I are just friends, flatmates and colleagues on occasion. I'm not in a romantic relationship with him."

Percival regarded him with a stern look that would have a whole regiment shaking in their boots. "Really?"

"Yes sir. I am sorry for lying to you."

Percival gave John that silent stare he'd given him earlier in the day while talking in the corridor. It brought back to mind what had been said.

"I'm sure you believe that doctor, as I said, I knew men like you in the army."

John frowned once again. "Sir?"

Percival gave a deep sigh. "Doctor Watson may I be blunt?"

John was already nervous and took a deep breath as he nodded.

"John, I believe you're in love with my son…."

"Sir-" John gasped eager to deny the allegation.

Percival held up a hand to silence him. "…you were so long in the army that you actually believe the façade you put on there. I know what happens to soldiers that are believed to be gay, John. I know what they go though. So a soldier has to be like everyone else, they have to hide what they feel and who they are. - I believe you played the role of 'one of the lads' for so long you actually believe it. - Even now that you've been discharged…."

John couldn't believe what he'd just heard. He stared wide eyed at Percival Holmes. Surely the man didn't honestly believe that. John wasn't in denial, he was straight, he had always been straight. - Sure there had been that guy when he was seventeen, but that had been a dare. - Sure he'd thought Sherlock was kind of good looking when he'd first met him, but that didn't mean he was gay.

"Sir, I promise you, I'm not gay."

Percival frowned at him with disbelief. "John I've been watching you with my son since your arrival, Mycroft had told me about the pair of you…. I am very confident that there is more than friendship between you and my son. - And then there was the scene downstairs."

John swallowed hard.

"I suggest you think about it John." with that Percival marches from the room, leaving John alone with his thoughts.

~ **SHERLOCK **~

John strolled down the stairs with his bag on his good shoulder. He stopped at the bottom and looked around. The party was still in full swing, but Mycroft, Anna and Mary stood waiting for him.

"John do you have to leave?" Mary asked with a look of confusion.

"I'm afraid so Mrs Holmes." he said sadly.

She shook her head. "Well, it was lovely to meet you John. I do hope you will come again."

John nodded politely but had no doubt he wouldn't be stepping foot in his house again. He turned to Anna with a slightly sad smile.

"It was wonderful to meet you Anna." he held out his hand for her.

"You really shouldn't let him ruin what is between you two." she whispered, clearly not wanting her mother to know what had happened.

"He isn't, but I can't sit here and watch Sherlock make an idiot of himself."

Anna gave him a raised knowing brow that John had seen on so many faces since he's met Sherlock. They seemed to all think they knew something he didn't. Of course they were all wrong.

"Maybe you could visit us at Baker Street." he smiled.

"You're staying at Sherlock's?" Anna asked with hope.

"Of course, Sherlock's my flatmate, Anna. - that's all…." he insisted, glancing between her and Mycroft. "… No matter what you've been told. - Just because I can't stand his choice in boyfriends, doesn't mean I'm going to make myself homeless."

"You mean you and Sherlock aren't together?" Mary suddenly asked.

John turned shamefully to her. "No, Mrs Holmes, I'm afraid not. - I'm sure Mycroft will explain everything."

She looked genuinely upset by this news. "But you're so perfect together. - He's never been so… well, normal. - I might even say happy. - Are you sure?"

John gave the older woman a wide grin. "Quite sure, Mrs Holmes."

"…I should go…" he glanced around the room. "…where's Sherlock? - Or shouldn't I ask." he said with a slight hint of spite to his tone.

"He's outside by the car." Mycroft informed him. "It will take you back to Baker Street, John."

"Thank you Mycroft." John nodded, and then smiled at the women before moving to leave.

"John." Anna stopped him with a hand on his arm. "This is for you." she handed him an envelope.

"What is it?"

"Just a little something from me." she grinned mischievously.

John glanced down at it with unease. "Ok, thank you. Goodbye."

"Bye John." the group said in unison.

~ **SHERLOCK **~

Sherlock stood by the car waiting for John. Every voice in his head telling him to tell the man not to leave. That there was nothing between Jacob and him. That it had been a heat of the moment mistake that would never happen again. But as John approached the car and held out his bag to the driver, who looked furious at having to make the trip so late on Christmas night, he couldn't say a word. Which considering that this was Sherlock Holmes was a feat in itself.

"Well…" John started before pausing and staring again. "… Have a nice time here Sherlock. Try not to get into too much trouble, and don't expect me to come running back just so you can borrow my phone." he smiled a little.

"I have my own phone John."

Watson nodded and the pair fell silent again.

"Ok, well…see ya when you get back." John finally said, getting into the car.

"Yes." As John lifted his foot to climb inside Sherlock stopped him. "Oh John. - Huh, this is for you." he held out a wrapped gift.

John frowned. "What is it?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I didn't think you were that stupid John. - It's obviously a Christmas present."

"I didn't think you brought any…"

"Of course I brought you a gift John. - I just did not wish to give it to you in front of my family. - You saw how they were this morning."

John looked down at the wrapped square. It was clearly a book. Knowing Sherlock, it was probably some kind of text book on plant life or something equally useless, unless you happened to be a consulting detective. "Thank you. - I'm afraid, I meant what I said, I left yours at home."

"That is perfectly alright John. - One does not give to receive. - Or at least that's what my mother always told me. - Have a safe trip, text me when you arrive home won't you."

John nodded and continued getting into the back of the black Rolls. "Bye Sherlock."

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading, reviewing and faving. MERRY CHRISTMAS - AGAIN **

**ROFL**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Well here you go, so much for christmas getting in the way. :) Enjoy **

**Thanks to my Beta Magpieintheshadow**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER FIFTHTEEN<strong>

John sat staring out of the window as the car passed through a small village a mile from the Holmes estate. His mind a buzz with everything that had happened in the last twenty four hours. - As well as the last six months. He'd gone through so much with Sherlock. He thought about Sarah and the disastrous relationship with her. It had gone smoothly they just never seemed to get past the dates and friendliness of it all. Something always came up. - Usually Sherlock. - If John was honest he would always take adventure with Sherlock over a night with Sarah. In fact the only times he'd spent the night with his so-called girlfriend, if you could call her that, was when he'd had a fight with the detective. - and he always took either the airbed or the sofa.

He frowned out at the darkness. None of that meant a thing. It just came with the job… right? It's what being a sidekick meant. John rolled his eyes at the idea of himself as the sidekick. Like Sherlock was some sort of superhero. He found himself giggling at the image of his flatmate in tights and a cape. Sherlock was most certainly no batman, but he was a hero in his own way. - He'd certainly saved John's life.

He suddenly remembered the envelope and gift at his side. Reaching out for the white envelope he ripped at the sealed paper, pulling out a posh Christmas card with a beautiful nativity scene on it. Opening it up he stared wide eyed at the roughly written words.

**JOHN WATSON.**

**GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS AND GET IT BACK HERE AND STAND YOUR GROUND.**

**YOU'RE A SOLDIER FOR GOODNESS SAKE.**

**DON'T BE A FUCKING COWARD!**

John couldn't help but smile at the letter. He could just hear Anna saying the words. She seemed to be a complete romantic. It was amusing and sweetly endearing. Shame she was in for a disappointment. - Because even if John wasn't straight, Sherlock was clearly still attached to his ex. Sherlock hadn't said anything to the contrary.

Closing the card, John placed it back into the envelope and set it aside. Picking up the gift Holmes had given him as he'd left. John stared at it for a long moment. Unsure whether he wanted to open. It was obviously a book, John could feel it through the paper. He sighed to himself. It was probably something Sherlock thought educational. He was always trying to improve John abilities of deduction. Maybe he should wait till he gets home, but his curiosity was too much.

Carefully, he began to pull at the smartly, perfectly wrapped gold paper. It fell way to reveal a red leather bound book. John read the title with confusion and surprise.

_**The Case Book of Sherlock Holmes - Volume One**_

_**As Documented by Dr. John Watson.**_

Opening the cover he read the inscription with a smile and a tightening of his heart.

_Dear John,_

_If you are going to write about out adventures at least show them the respect they deserve._

_Sherlock._

John found himself giggling once again. He knew Sherlock hated his blog, especially because he let slip things Sherlock probably didn't want the world to know. Like how he didn't know the earth went around the sun. That one still surprised Watson. John flicked to the introduction. It didn't say much… just a detailed profile of John and Sherlock, clearly written by the detective. John was the words Amazing, loyal, wonderful and my best friend, all under his name. He felt his heart skip slightly, but pushed it away.

He carried on flicking. The book had been divided into cases, beginning with their first case A Study In Pink. - Yes, it actually had that title. John read the first few lines. It was his blog word for word. John's chest tightened further as he checked on. Flicking though page after page. It even had the earth thing. Sherlock hadn't changed at single line.

John swallowed the lump in his throat at the thought and kindness Sherlock had show in the chose of gift. It was so much better than a crappy scarf from Marks & Spencer. Maybe the man wasn't a lost cause after all but that didn't mean he felt anything more than friendship for John…. Or vice versa. - They were friends. Best friends. That was all.

And John figured that as Sherlock's best friend he was going to have to get used to his choice of boyfriend. - Even if said guy was a bastard. Even if he knew the man was completely wrong for him. Even if seeing them together would drive him crazy beyond words. - But as Sherlock's friend first and foremost, which meant he would just have to put his feeling aside, that was the best present John could give.

John was still staring at the book, contemplating the idea of having Jacob Harvelle in their lives when his felt his phone begin to vibrate in his pocket. He fished it out as his heart pounded mercilessly against his ribs. When he saw his ex-sister-in-law's name on the caller ID he felt a breath-taking stab of disappointment.

"Clara?"

_"John."_

Watson frowned at the sound of the woman's voice. He hadn't spoken to the woman in months. "What's wrong?"

_"Have you spoken to Harry?"_

"No…" John sat forward in his seat with concern. "Why?"

_"I got a call from her about an hour ago."_

"Is she alright?" his heart was still pounding, though for a completely different and not so pleasant reason.

_"I - I don't know honestly. - she apologised for everything John, then said that she was going to get help."_

"What?"

_"She said she was going to get help with her drinking."_

John gave a mixed sigh of relief and disappointment. "Clara, she says that every year. - she said the same thing this morning, when she called."

_"I know John…. I said as much, but… well, she was sober John. I swear she was. And I could hear it in her voice, she means it."_

"Clara, she always means it." John felt sorry for his sister-in-law, she was always hoping Harry would come to her senses and was always got her heart broken again.

_"John. She meant it, I swear she did…. I know you don't believe it."_

"Alright Clara. Why now? When only this morning she was calling me still trashed from the night before."

John heard Clara sigh and new she hated hearing the woman she loved had been out binge drinking on Christmas Eve._ "I asked the same question John. She told me that someone had given her a rather blunt and unforgiving talking to."_

John swallowed. It couldn't be. No way. - Though blunt and unforgiving certainly sounded like him. "Who?" he pressed cautiously.

_"Your friend…. Sherlock, is it?"_

John felt all the air leave his lungs. He head began to spin again. "Are you sure?"

_"Yes. Apparently had a right go at her. Said she was ruining her life and that she should guilt before you destroyed not only her life but yours too."_

John had a sudden flashback to a few hours ago when he'd walked in on Sherlock's heated and insulting conversation. - If Sherlock's phone calls could ever be consider conversations. - He'd looked guilty as hell when John had walked in. Watson had just assumed it was because he'd almost broken his phone. He'd also assumed that the call was either Donovan or Anderson. Considering how much he hated the pair, it wouldn't have been so far fetched.

But it had been Harry. Sherlock had talked to Harry, called her a moron and told her to sort her life out for him. John had a strange feeling gathering in his stomach and it was spreading though him by the second. Sherlock had actually done that. - And the even more surprising thing was that if Clara was right, it had worked. Harry was actually going to sort herself out.

_"John?"_

"Hmm. - Sorry. - Are you sure about this Clara? - about Sherlock I mean?"

_"Yes. It had to be him right."_

John nodded to himself. "I - I guess." he murmured.

It was all just so out of character for Sherlock, especially considering that only an hour ago he'd stood face to face with him and said he wasn't going to change for anyone. - But Sherlock had changed, John realised. Everyone had said so. Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson. Anna. Mary and Percival. They'd all said he was a different man. Could that really be done to him - and if so, why.

_"John?" _Clara said again as John fell silent.

"Sorry, Clara… I guess I'm just a little surprised. I mean if you knew Sherlock, you'd understand."

_"He obviously cares about you John."_ she said softly down the line_. "More than Harry cared for me."_ she added mournfully.

"I'm sorry Clara. - Maybe if Harry sorts herself out, you two could give it another go."

_"Yeah, maybe. - Well, I'll let you go John. I just thought you'd want to know. - oh and Merry Christmas."_

"Merry Christmas Clara. - Bye."

John hung up the phone with a sigh and stared out of the window. His mind completely filled with Sherlock and what he'd given him.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading, review and faving.**


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

Sherlock stood surrounded by his parent's guests, listening to some ridiculous story that was filled with implausibility and holes, though he couldn't bring himself to comment or correct. He just stood there watching the man's lips move but not really listening to the babble that came forth.

His hands were set deep in the pockets of his smart black trousers as his mind wondered. It had been twenty minutes since John had driven away and Sherlock asked himself for the billionth time if he should have asked him to stay because he was already suffering under the immense feeling of loss. Which he knew was ridiculous as John had merely returned home to their flat. He would see him in a few days. But it seemed that Sherlock had become dependent on John presence in his life. - And not just as a replacement for his skull. - They hadn't been apart for more than a few hours.

John had given Sherlock something he hadn't even known he'd wanted - or needed - companionship, friendship and trust. - The only thing John Watson couldn't and wouldn't give him was love.

Sherlock had known that even before he knew that he'd wanted it. Before he'd far the truth of his own feelings. John was out of his league in the only way that truly counted to Holmes. John wasn't gay, he'd made that clear from the day they'd met and Holmes had accepted it. Never questioned it. Because if Sherlock was honest, he'd never been very good at reading people in that sense. John wasn't the first guy he'd thought was interest only to discover they weren't playing for his team.

Sherlock fiddled with the phone in his pocket fighting the need to text the man but he knew he wouldn't. He'd leave the man to his peace. Then go home and carry on as if nothing had happened. He was sure that was a possibility, after all, John and he could move past anything, they'd proven that.

And Sherlock could live with the knowledge that his feelings would never be requited as long as he could have John's friendship. Right. People did it all the time.

He saw people laughing and knew a joke had been told, but he didn't join in. He lifted a flute of a passing tray and threw it back in one. So what if John thought he was back with Jacob? So what if he'd seen that slight dimming in the respect the doctor had for him? It was his life. Maybe he would allow John to believe it, show the man that he was allowed a life, without having to answer to his roommate or his family.

Except he needed that respect back from John. It hurt to think the man was angry at him. Once again he had that cold shiver as the memory of their last big fight flooded his memory. He heard Moriarty's taunting voice again. The man had known John was his weakness. - Hell, everyone knew that. Sherlock was hit by a sudden panic. Moriarty was still out there. What if he tried to take John again while he was alone? His logical mind said it was as stupid and implausible as the man's tale, after all Mycroft's driver was with him, but that didn't stop the panic.

He pulled out his phone to call. - Yes, to actually call. - It was engaged. Who could John be talking to? He told himself to calm down and stop over reacting. John was a grown man with a military record in the back of a car driven by a man with equally impressive credentials. Nothing was going to happen to him. He'd ring the phone back in a few minutes, he told himself, returning the phone to his pocket and grabbing another glass as it passed.

~ **SHERLOCK **~

Another thirty minutes later and Sherlock was fumbling with his phone as yet another dull person talking him about his dull life. He'd already gone though four glasses of champagne and was enjoying the wonderful buzz. A few more and maybe a couple of scotch's and he'd be so far gone he wouldn't care that he was in love with his best friend. - Or that said friend had abandoned him.

He actually chuckled at a joke told by a banker with a terrible goatee and a bad taste in cheap suits. It didn't matter than he'd told it wrong, or that it wasn't funny in the first place. The alcohol was making things just that little bit more pleasant.

Sherlock turned his gaze towards the tree and caught Anna staring at him with concern. He gave her a wink as he snatched yet another drink.

With his back to the entrance he was unaware of the figure that had confidently strolled through the front door and started towards him. It wasn't until he paused behind him and the banker and other fell silent that he turned to acknowledge the interruption. He stared wide eyed as John just stood there looking up at him. They just stared at each other for a few seconds before John lifted himself up on his toes and pressed his lips to an incredibly surprised Sherlock Holmes.

John pulled back, mirroring the shocked expression on Sherlock's face. He hadn't intended to do that. He'd come back because he needed to know just what had happened between him and Harry. But the moment he'd walked thought the doors once more and seen Sherlock stood there, his lanky figure looking wonderful in a tuxedo something had just clicked. - Ridiculous as it sounded.

He watched movies, read books, heard tons about that foolish idea of a realisation striking you like you'd been hit by lightening but never believed it possible. At least until that moment. So he'd acted on instinct, an instinct he wouldn't have believed possible.

"John?" Sherlock murmured.

The doctor shook his head and pulled Sherlock into another far more passionate kiss that made it clear to both of them just what was going on.

Pulling back once more, John glanced around the room with a scolding crimson blush. Everyone's eyes were on them. Anna looked like the cat that had got the cream as she settled into the embrace of her adoring husband, who dropped a kiss to her head. Mary had that blissed out happy face and she clasped her hands over her chest in that old lady kind of way. Percival stared at John with an air of 'I told you so.'

Susan rolled her eyes and marched from the room clearly not caring about any of it, while Mycroft just gave a self-satisfied huff of approval and returned to his brandy and conversation.

Feeling uncomfortable with the audience, John gripped Sherlock's hand, pulled him away and the detective followed without a word of complaint. They left the reception room and heading up the stairs still amazingly hand in hand. Once in their room. John dropped the detectives hand and turned to face him. His face still red. Sherlock just stood silently staring at his flatmate/friend. Trying to deduce what was going on, only to find for the first time in his life, he couldn't think straight.

"John?"

Watson swallowed hard and shuffled on his feet with embracement. "Sherlock I…. Thank you."

Holmes frowned and straightened. "It was nothing. - Certainly not worthy of you coming all the way back her and carrying on this charade." he felt a little hurt. "…it's just a book John."

John sighed. "Not the… not for the book you idiot. - Though that was wonderful. - For Harry."

Sherlock suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Its nothing." he shrugged. "I just told her a few home truths." he told the doctor causally.

"Well, whatever you told her it worked. Clara called; apparently Harry's going to get sober. - So she says."

"You don't believe it?"

"Not till I see it, no."

"Then why are you thanking me?" Sherlock asked confused.

John took a step closer to Sherlock. "Because you cared enough to try."

Sherlock blushed. "It's what any friend would do."

"Yeah, it is." John remarked. "But you're not just any friend Sherlock. – You're you."

"And what's that meant to mean?" Sherlock snapped, folding his arms.

"It means genius, that I was wrong about you, you do care, probably more than any of us realise."

Sherlock lifted his chin. "Well, if you'd pay more attention you'd have seen that months ago."

John laughed. "Yeah well there's a lot of things I didn't see and have been wrong about."

"Like?" Sherlock pressed, intrigued.

"Myself. - I've spent so long ignoring what I feel to fit in that I couldn't see the truth for what it was." John said seriously.

"Such as?"

"Such as… I think I kinda fancy you Sherlock… actually, it might even be more than that."

"Huh..." Sherlock smirked. "…So I was right?"

John frowned. "What?"

"When I assumed you were hitting on me that night in Angelo's…. I was right?"

John stared at him for a long few moments. Leave it to Sherlock to make it about being right. Bloody consulting detectives. John thought to himself. "Oh, shut up Sherlock." John snapped, pulling the infuriating detective into another kiss as it seemed the only way to silence him and his arrogance.

**THE END**

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><p><strong>AN: Ok... well that's it. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I kinda don't want it to end, but I've told the story I wanted to tell. I'm sorry there wasn't any smutty slashness but I just can't right that stuff. I'm a romance writer at heart and tend to focus on that side. :) **

**Anyway I'd like to think my Beta ****Magpieintheshadow ****once more, you've been a great help. I'd also like to thank all of you for reading, review (getting your messages really kept me on the straight and narrow and made my day) and for faving, I'm truly honoured by that. **

**Anyway before I go there are a couple of things I'd like to say about what I was thinking when I wrote certain parts of this story.**

**1) In my head the portrait that John and Percival were talking in front of was Jeremy Brett as Sherlock Holmes, who prior to Benedict was my favourite Sherlock. - And kinda still is, in his own way. **

**2) The moment where John walks back into Sherlock's life and kisses him is a homage to The Office (UK) Christmas Special where Dawn walked up to Tim and kisses him. Tim was played by Martin Freeman. ;) for those who haven't seen it, here's the link ****.com/watch?v=RHol7bDi61E**** it's a beautiful moment and I just couldn't resist using it. **

**3) and finally I have to apologize, I screwed up the time line. (unintentionally) I said this took place six months after The Study In Pink which I'm sure you know is impossible as that episode was set in Oct/Nov so if its Christmas, it either has to be a month after or a year after. Sorry about that. :(**

**Though in my defence the series screwed up first with that episode. Cause if John and Sherlock were meeting at 7:00 at Baker Street in Nov it really should have been very dark, instead of early evening light. But hey, we'll forgive them because the series is just too brilliant not too.**

**Anyho, Thanks again. **

**Maybe I'll see you again soon. **

**All my love **

**GATERGIRL79 XxX**


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